Tainted Blood
by Pyroclastic Dragon
Summary: Without the guiding hand of Shinra, Edge is run by underground forces. But can these forces protect themselves against an inter-terrestrial disease? ...along with the return of Sephiroth and his remnants, of course. VinCid
1. Prelude to the Dark Abyss

**Pyro's Notes:** Bonjour! This is the long-awaited, long in construction collaboration between LordBahamut'sgirl and Your Pyroclastic Flow! It's based off the story "Cosa Nostra," which can be found in Pyroclastic Dragon's favorites. Might help to read that first, but you don't have to! As a warning to y'all, Yazoo is portrayed here as a girl. Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo are all cat-kids. Vincent broke off from Avalanche. The Sephiroth situation will be explained. There will be yaoi (particularly VinxCid). At this point, we're not sure how often the story will be updated; our goal is bi-weekly. We'll see how it goes.

Odd-numbered chapters were written by LordBahamut'sgirl. Even-numbered chapters were written by Your Pyroclastic Flow. Our styles might clash sometimes, but hopefully it'll stay consistent! Note any concerns in your reviews! Love you, thanks for reading, and enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Most characters, places, and references belong to Square Enix and those dudes in the credits of Final Fantasy VII. The rest are made up. Any similarities between this fictional work and real life are purely coincidental.

**Tainted Blood**

_Chapter 1: Prelude to the Dark Abyss_

It was common knowledge that a man founded the Lynx Organization. But what most people didn't know was that a woman made it into the force that it was now. Lucita took the Organization and molded it into her image. Before, any transgression was met with minimal, clueless force. Now, no one dared to point a butter knife in their direction. Lucita took the men and turned them into professional soldiers and elite assassins. She made sure they were either the best, or they were...given a ride.

She did not tolerate excuses or failures. Failure warranted punishment. Careless handling of an important mission and information lost to the enemy warranted death. Betrayal of the Organization and Lucita warranted ungodly torture with heinous methods of ensuring complete and total obedience from her men and women. And she made sure no one knew outside of the Organization that a woman was the Don.

"Ma'am, we just received word that there are Umbra men poking around our warehouses in Mideel." The man talking to her was Caucasian, blond hair in a long ponytail, and grey pin-stripe suit in impeccable uniform.

"Send a unit in to escort the men to a more favorable locale. And if they insist on investigating, have them removed. Permanently." The last word was spoken in a masculine voice. If Cloud Strife had been there, he would have sworn that Sephiroth spoke that last word. The voices didn't brook any excuses and since the woman faced the window, her glare went unnoticed as the man bowed deeply.

"Yes, ma'am. Anything else, ma'am?"

"No, you are dismissed, Maverick." Maverick bowed again and left the room to assign a unit to "escort" the men from Umbra. The office he left was mostly black with clear, bullet-proof glass in key locations like the desk, the windows, and other things. For those that are curious, the thirty-year-old Lucita had a deep tan, long hematite hair, a lean, muscular form, a fetish for black leather uniforms complete with matching trench-coat, a high proficiency in all swords and firearms, and piercing silver eyes capable of seeing lies before they were spoken.

However, those eyes were emerald green with slits of a cat.

"Hmm, what have we here? Umbra is bothering my warehouses in Mideel, the Cosa Nostra invading my privacy in South Edge, Kalm and in Junon. And the Turks poking around my stores in Costa Del Sol. This could be a problem on many accounts. Hmm, I wonder if my three charges are ready for some action." She reached over to pick up the black office phone and pressed a button.

"Darla, please send the trio in." Darla said something and it drew a sigh of irritation from Lucita. "Just send in Loz, Kadaj, and Yazoo. No one more, no one less. That clear?" The woman on the other end of the phone stuttered and replied affirmatively. "Good. Send them in." She put the phone down and waited for the trio to enter and receive their orders.

It was only ten minutes before the door opened and the two men and one woman entered. "Ah, my children. I hope you are well-rested. I am giving you your first mission," she said in her feminine voice. They looked at her with shock on their faces.

"But, Mother, I thought you said we couldn't?" said Kadaj. She smiled sourly.

"My hand is forced. I want Maverick to accompany you to South Edge to take care of some business with this... little thing of ours." The trio nodded. "Keep your cat ears sharp. I don't want any casualties or anything linking anything to us. I love you too much to have you given a ride." The trio bowed deeply.

"We understand. We will prepare now. When do we leave?" asked Yazoo, her cat ears folded back into her long silver hair.

"Tonight. Tell Maverick what I told you and be off. Happy hunting." The trio bowed again and left the room, leaving Lucita with the problem of Junon, Kalm, and Costa Del Sol. "Now, how to go about this? I guess I will just have to tighten security until I have additional information about my enemies. Wouldn't do to go in and lose so much."

She picked up the phone and dialed the number to contact one of her subordinates in Junon. "I want security tightened in the warehouses. I don't want anyone that is not personnel to enter. And do me a favor: I want you to observe our competition and their patterns. Leave nothing out of your reports. Understood?" The voice at the other end complied with the request and Lucita hung up the phone. She repeated the process with Kalm and Costa Del Sol. When that was done, she decided that she would oversee the training of the new recruits. Then, she could devise tests to figure out what the individual excelled at. She left her office to go the glass-encased elevator and down to the training floor and to get the test results from their instructors.

The elevator went down and a minute later, she arrived at the third floor. She got out of the elevator and walked down the dimly-lit hallway to a large wooden door with the Lynx emblem emblazoned across it. The guard at the door stood up from sitting on the floor to salute her.

"Anything you need, ma'am?" She shook her head.

"Only here to see if they are worthy of joining. I don't want weaklings and faint-hearted fools. Only the best and the determined." The guard bowed and she entered the brightly-lit white room. The room itself mostly took up the entire third floor. And the training room was filled with an obstacle course, a computer terminal, weaponry arena, and various other training sections. She walked slowly, watching the combatants fight one another, pitting themselves against another in the hope of joining the Lynx Organization.

In her mind, another voice was telling her which one had promise and which could be cut from the team.

'The boy with the scar across his eye has the potential, but it seems that he has a problem of taking orders. He will be a challenge,' said the voice of Sephiroth.

'Yes, he would. But as you said, he has the potential to become a great commander. He will be worth the work,' said Lucita and her silver eyes gleamed dangerously in the fluorescent lights. She walked over to the gruff man in camouflage and tapped his massive right shoulder.

He turned and saluted.

"Lucita, ma'am. Is there a problem?"

She smirked. "No, but who is that blond boy with the scarred eye?" The solidly-built man looked at the boy and his sparring partner.

"You mean Cyphon? He's an orphan from Rocket Town. Why do you ask, ma'am?" She smiled.

"Oh, I believe this boy will be a great asset to our group. I just need you to work on his inability to take orders and follow them. Other than that, nothing really, Jessim." The man nodded and went back to correcting a young teen on his stance. She continued until Sephiroth made the last judgement call on the last recruit.

She nodded and left the room to begin the listing of the recruits accepted and cut off. And that was the rest of the night for her.

--

Seeker ran for his life. Usually, it was from a mad girl or boy, but at the moment, it was a bunch of lab-coats and soldiers chasing him. Why, oh why, did he land in the middle of a forest with weirdos and lunatics?

BANG! A bullet tore through his denim coat sleeve as he ducked. Guns now?! Oh dragon fangs, this was getting horrible, fast.

"Stop, or we'll kill you!" The platinum haired man almost stopped to gawk at them. And the gunshot wasn't proof enough of THAT!?

"I DON'T THINK SO!" After more bullets tore through his coat, denim pants, and skin, plus more shouts later, he was in their grasp and in pain. Stupid branches. Stupid roots. STUPID FOREST!

"I HATE THIS PLANET! I HATE THIS TIME! Ihateitihateitihateit I HATE IT!" The Umbra researchers smirked and escorted him to a truck to take him back to their offices in Edge. As the truck drove to Costa Del Sol to get him into a secure location, Seeker glared at the nearest guard. "And I hate you, stupid monkey-smelling jackass-lickers!" They laughed at him and made sure the cuffs and bindings were holding tightly. The lead scientist sneered at the captive man, his short blond hair, covered in sweat and grease, and pale skin looking rather burnt

"We can't have you leave until we figure out how you teleported to our location. And then, how we can figure out how to make it and commercialize it so that the world can use it. My friend, you are not leaving for a long, long time. It would be wise for you to behave for the duration of your stay. Also, I would like to know if you are Sephiroth, or a remnant of his." The man made a weird face at the captive, causing the platinum-headed man to cringe.

"Who in the names of the Sun and Moon Gods is Sephiroth and why do you whack-jobs think I am him, her, it, they?" The scientists looked at each other and shrugged, the answer leaving room for speculation.

"What is your name, then?"

He glared at them with his ungodly blue eyes. "Seeker Giovanni of the Silver Were-Dragon Court, Apprentice of the Shango Trade Guild-Mastery, and nephew to Bernard Giovanni the 23rd, owner of the SilverPath Engineering Corps. So, I demand that you release me now."

They looked at him like he grew a head, then they started laughing like madmen.

"What's so freakin' funny?" demanded Seeker, his eyes glowing balefully at his captors. Only for the glare to intensify as an assistant took out a needle and put it in his arm to draw blood. Then the young woman, her face too ugly to remember, put the blood in an analyzer for a minute.

"Sir, his DNA structure is non-human. There are recombinant strands that may allow for him to take on the form of another creature, due to the minor instability of the DNA structure in all. There are no Jenova cells in his blood-flow and no signs of Geostigma." The blond scientist looked at Seeker with wonder.

"You are far from home, then. Well, Seeker, you have just proven to us that Sephiroth did, in fact, take on a new human host. And it is not you. Now we are going to try to find out who the host is..." Seeker was wondering why these idiots were telling him all this. Don't they know that he had ears and he very much had the capacity to escape the cuffs and bindings with an ease that would make his captors tremble in fear? But now didn't seem to be the time. Maybe he could learn more about this planet and this time field that he landed in.

"Okay, who the hell is this Sephiroth?" asked Seeker in a bored tone.

"He nearly destroyed the world as the will of the alien Jenova demanded it of him, using the thing's powers along with the power of the Lifestream and with Ancient Cetran knowledge. Almost succeeded if it weren't for Avalanche and that pesky leader of the Cosa Nostra!"

'Okay, they hate this Cosa Nostra and mostly it's leader. Anything else?'

"Then, two years later, his three remnants appeared and nearly destroyed the planet with the help of a sickness called, 'Geostigma.' But again, Avalanche was there to stop that plot and save the world again. Now, Avalanche spawned a group called the Cosa Nostra and they succeed in interfering with everything that Umbra does! All we really want to do is help the world... for a price. It never hurts to benefit from those seeking help." The man seemed a little out of it. Greed must have put a tumor in his brain, because he started ranting and raving about how horrible Cosa Nostra was.

"Damn that Valentine!"

'If this is the first trip with this guy, I am in a world of boredom from here on out,' thought Seeker as the cuts and scrapes started to itch, and the truck, loud and bumpy, slowly made its way to the resort town, dust stirred up and floated into the reddening sky of dusk.

-three hours later; South Edge-

The triplets and Maverick watched the Nostran men start poking around the four non-descript warehouses. Yazoo looked through a pair of binoculars at the men as they tried the door.

"Stupid fools. Don't even think before they start messing around. What do you suggest, Maverick, sir?" asked Kadaj in a whisper. The four were on top of a nearby building, observing all activities below them. The blond took out a laser-edged blade and looked at the leather-clad trio, the nightcam contact lenses turning the pupils of his eyes an emerald green in surrounding blue.

"They are being rather rude, don't you think? They are lacking in manners and must be taught proper etiquette." The trio nodded and took out their weapons.

"This is exciting!" said Loz quietly as Maverick and the others went to a ladder to climb down.

"It won't be if we mess up and get hurt. Be quiet and hurry up," whispered Yazoo as she climbed down the ladder after Maverick and Kadaj. Soon, the three trespassers were looking around the corner of the building to the warehouses. The doors were locked tight, so they couldn't enter.

"Where are our men? They should be at least raising a commotion," muttered the biggest of the silver-haired triplets. Yazoo nodded in agreement at the lack of security forces.

"Do you think we got ourselves a rat in our midst?" asked the boldest to his siblings.

"I suspect that you're right, Kadaj. I fear that there _is_ a betrayer in our Organization. Well, no sense in talking about it," said the blond as he readjusted his black armor and sword sheath.

"Check your materia. I don't want you to be defenseless because you forgot your attack materia." The trio did as instructed and got ready to face the three men from the Cosa Nostra.

They waited until the three went to the back of the nearest warehouse and followed them.

"Hello, may I help you?" said Maverick as he stepped out from behind them. The trio whirled and pointed their automatic submachine guns at him.

"Who the hell a' you?" demanded the farthest man. They had been surprised, like they didn't expect anyone to show up. As the three watched Maverick, the three others came up from behind them and in unison, cast a powerful Bolt3 spell. The trio went down without a fight, making the four wonder if it was a trap.

"Do you think that a trap may be sprung?" asked Yazoo as she looked into the dark shadows of the small alley.

"They would have sprung their trap as soon as we have finished the three men off. Loz, check their wallets and find their IDs." The biggest of the three siblings nodded and checked their wallets.

"Jay, Jonah, and Jamison. Same last name, so they may be brothers." Maverick nodded and took out a small cell phone. He dialed a number and called for a unit to deal with the three corpses.

"Mother should be told of this," said Yazoo as they watched the bodies being loaded into a truck to be delivered to the outskirts of Edge and to an alley far from the Lynx Headquarters, but close to the Cosa Nostra base.

"Kadaj, call and report the mission to the Don," said Maverick, and the neko-teen nodded. As the teen called, Yazoo looked towards an alley not far from them and saw a small movement in the shadows, but she chalked it up to the adrenaline rush she was on.

'Our first mission and we succeeded! Mother will be so proud of us!' thought the neko-girl as Maverick lead the trio to his car. He stopped to speak to the captain of the nightwatch and he wasn't happy to do so.

"Where were your men? We pay you to watch our buildings and make sure they are not bothered by non-personnel. Yet, I came here and found not _one_ guard to challenge the three trespassers." The captain stammered and stuttered that this would not happen again.

"Good. If it does, the Don will personally rip your throats out and leave your bodies to be eaten be the monsters!" The glare that the blond sent was powerful enough to make the man practically melt underneath it.

"Come. Our mission here is complete, so there is no need to stay here." The trio followed him to his Sedan and got in. "We will stay in a hotel in town tonight and head out in the morning," said Maverick as he started the car and drove off to the other side of Edge.


	2. How Vincent Runs Things

**Pyro's Notes:** Bonjour, y'all! (We're so cool we need to clash cultures.) This is the second chapter. Hope you liked the first one, because it's only going to get better from here! We've got way more characters making appearances, some awkward situations, some kidnapping, some drugs... Well, I don't want to spoil it all right here. You can just enjoy this piece of loveliness all your own. We wish you the best. Make sure to grant feedback so we can continue to make it better!

**Disclaimer:** Do. Not. Own. FFVII. (see disclaimer in Ch. 1 for specifications)

**Tainted Blood**

_Chapter Two: How Vincent Runs Things  
_

Doug Etheridge was twenty-four years old and working his way up a career chain of which his wife strongly disapproved. She didn't care if the "Company" as she called it was a branch of Avalanche or made up of crazy environmentalists who sought to defend the Planet and all its inhabitants from threats of destruction (or global warming, should it come about as some scientists predicted). She didn't give a hoot if hunting and firearms were his passion. "Guns kill people," she said. "Violence doesn't solve anything, Douggie!"

"Yeah, I know," he told her in reply. In a whisper, he added, "But I gotta do _something_."

These days a good majority of the population were overcome with that sense of needing to do _something_. And Doug wasn't the only one of them who had taken a risk and joined Cosa Nostra (or any other shady group for that matter, as they had been springing like turnips lately) because of it. His friends Jim and Hank, for example, were two normal guys who had normal jobs as fishermen, before they became so overwhelmed with a sense of uselessness that they looked up this gang and signed up. Most of the members had been good people with good jobs and decent pay. But they gave it all up for the sake of being able to do _something_ for the world.

In the last few years, everything had gone to shit. Crazies ran amuck everywhere. Science experiments turned into desensitized killers and summoned Meteors to destroy the Planet. Secrets kept by Shinra for decades crept out from beneath the earth and rampaged the streets. Killing, maiming, blood, torture, intestines laying about on the sidewalk like sausages. Bodies with their heads chopped off. Bodies full of holes. Bodies turned blue from suffocation. Bodies still breathing, crying desperately for help. This was what their quiet world had become, and what were they, the people, supposed to do? Give all the work to Avalanche and pray it came out alright? Give the WRO the benefit of the doubt? Let Shinra "fix" it all?

No, not anymore. After Sephiroth, and remnants of Sephiroth, and Deepground with that Weiss creep trying to kill life itself, they couldn't sit back and keep letting things happen. They had to be a part of it. They had to _do_ _something_. Had to be part of _something_. Needed to defend themselves rather than live defenseless for what may be their last few seconds of life. By now, the people were wary. They had faced threats of sudden death for the last four or five years and were getting tired of living in fear. Tired and restless. Luckily, there were some leader-like types who noticed this, and took advantage of it. Vincent Valentine was one of them. While not entirely a born leader, per se, he had knowledge of what to do with an army, and had the ability (and the respect) to lead them if he so wished. After watching the people mope about, wishing for _something_ they could do to help, he gathered them into a group and turned it into a new authority.

It seemed to cure their helplessness. Doug Etheridge knew it cured his, having been given the chance to fight against the evils of the world, and that was why he went against his wife's wishes for him to leave the organization. Part of him felt bad for it; after all, he loved his wife, she was the world to him. But for exactly that reason, it was impossible for him to leave. How would he protect her without Cosa Nostra? How could he save her without Vincent Valentine's help?

He ran down the streets of Edge, trying to look more like a man in a hurry than a man running for his life. Not that his life was in danger at this moment, but so far as he knew it could be, and so he wanted to get to the base as quickly as possible. The base was both discreet and yet somehow conspicuous. Rather than gray like most other buildings in the city, it was brick red, relatively tall, and possessed the girth of a school building. That's what it had been intended to become, but the town counsel decided they didn't want a school here. Therefore, it had been cheap to buy, he learned from Cid Highwind, but it was in good condition and well worth the money. He pushed the heavy front door, feeling the strength drain from his arms in combination with the long time he'd spent running. A man standing guard put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You alright, Douggie?" the big man asked. He smiled through his thick, messy beard.

"I'm fine, Hank," Doug replied. "Thanks. Is the Don around?"

Hank nodded. "Upstairs in his office. Meeting with Cloud, I believe."

Doug thanked him and ran up two flights of stairs. The Don's office was at the end of the hall. It wasn't marked or anything. Everyone just knew that was where his office was. If they didn't, then they might need to buy a map, because only complete rookies didn't know where the Don's office was, and no one was ever willing to help a rookie.

...Except maybe the Don.

Doug knocked on the door. The voices inside went silent as soon as he did so. As much as he hated interrupting the Don's meetings, it was necessary that the information he had be given at once.

"Come in," said Vincent Valentine, who sounded tired, and perhaps fed up with interruptions. Today had been a wild day. Undoubtedly he had been interrupted before.

He shut the door behind him and stayed there, timidly staring back at Cloud Strife and their leader. No one said anything for a few drawn seconds. Finally, Vincent invited him closer. "Sir," he said, standing before that huge, absurdly neat desk, "I've received word from the troops investigating South Edge, and I'm afraid to report some bad news."

Vincent made no indication of emotion. "What is it?"

Doug breathed deeply. "We've lost the three brothers. Jay, Jonah, and Jamison. They're dead." Both Cloud and Vincent bowed their heads, silent. When Vincent returned his gaze to Doug, he seemed exhausted.

"Details," he prompted. Doug knew exactly what that meant.

"They were found by the warehouses. Apparently there weren't any guards around, but there were four suspicious people, three of them described as silver-haired and having cat ears."

"Cat ears?" Cloud interrupted.

"Cat ears," Doug confirmed, nodding as though agreeing with Cloud that it sounded crazy. "They're the ones who killed the brothers. We believe it may have been magic."

"I see," Vincent replied. "And did anyone think to follow these four people?"

Doug nodded, proud of himself for thinking as efficiently as the Don. "I made sure someone went after 'em. They left the scene in a sedan. Although... I'm not sure if they've discovered they're being followed... I sent Miss Kisaragi after them."

A look of sarcasm passed between the other two. _Grand_.

"I hope she isn't the only one you sent," Cloud warned. "Whoever these people are, silver-haired men have always been bad luck. Yuffie won't be able to handle it on her own if they happen to turn around."

"I'm aware of that, sir," Doug said sheepishly. "But she was the only one who could catch up to them after they left. She's supposed to have a tracking device with her. Perhaps we could send someone out later...?"

As good a suggestion as it was, the Don let that question hang on an invisible string. He didn't know what to do. He sighed. Cloud started for the door. "I'll see if Barret knows anything about this."

Vincent stood. "Etheridge."

"Sir?"

"Take care of the corpses and the family. We'll have a service for them in a few days."

"Yes, sir."

He went to the door. "Tell the others to be more discreet. From now on there is no attacking unless prompted, and no trespassing without passes."

"Passes for the warehouses, sir?"

Vincent nodded. "They're called search warrants. Look it up."

Oh. Well, Doug knew what search warrants were. What he didn't know was how gang members were supposed to obtain them.

2

"Don't stress so much," Cid said. "It'll be over soon." But Vincent didn't satisfy him with an answer. The clock on the wall read as 4:32 in the afternoon, round and black-edged, contrasting with the clean white walls, and irritatingly loud as its hands clicked the seconds away. Vincent only wished Cid had been talking about the ordeal revolving around the suspiciously occupied warehouses in Edge. Instead, he was talking about the results. From the physical exam.

Normally, Vincent Valentine would excel in a physical exam. Agile, dextrous, and strong by nature, these traits were emphasized and multiplied with his transformation into a somewhat superhuman being. These days he was really agile, really dextrous, and really strong. A marvel to any military leader looking for some great physical attributes in his soldiers. And to a doctor, even more so. Which was why Vincent was, as Cid described it, stressing so much.

He loathed the doctor's office. Everything about it reminded him of memories he'd rather suppress. Latex gloves, cotton balls, stethoscopes, syringes. He wasn't one to have a fear of needles, but that didn't mean he liked them either. He always thought of Jenova cells when he saw a syringe. Thought of them being injected into Lucrecia Crescent's womb. It wasn't one of those happy thoughts your friends encouraged you to think when you were feeling down.

And it certainly wasn't helping to lower his stress levels. Doctors made him anxious. Not on purpose, of course, but they had that affect on him. Always had. It wasn't always so bad, but these past few years, he had lived as a not-quite-normal man with a not-so-typical body structure, which made going to the doctor's office an entirely new ordeal. Before, he worried about disappointing the physicians with high cholesterol, or a weight too far below healthiness. Today he worried about impressing them with too many interesting chemicals not ordinarily found beneath human skin, or some exciting new discovery relating to how his insides changed in the last thirty-something years. It was here in this medical room that he felt the oldest. He remembered being a child and sitting on the table like he was currently, swinging his legs and staring at the floor, waiting for that goddamn doctor to enter the room and smile and say hello, how are you today, Vinnie? And Vincent would smile shyly back and ask him politely not to call him Vinnie, he didn't like it when people called him Vinnie, and the doctor would just as politely apologize and correct himself—Vincent, yes, I'm sorry, Vincent, I won't say it again—and then proceed to take one of those damned syringes filled with transparent liquid junk and stick him with it. The doctors always told him to look away but he always looked anyway and noted what a strange feeling it was, getting something from outside being injected into you. It was even weirder later on when he learned that that liquid had probably been some virus or bacteria or other that could actually make him sick. And around the same time he learned of vaccines, he would also note what a similarly strange feeling it was to have the blood drawn directly out of his veins by some outside vacuum.

Hence why he avoided physicians in the past four years he had been awake. Unfortunately, he was afraid old age was finally beginning to dawn on him, and had noticed something he feared might be arthritis hitting him in his wrist. This pain wouldn't do at all, not when he still had this love for drawing guns more quickly than most aptly skilled gunmen. He hoped it would pass away with time. It hadn't. And so Cid had managed to convince him, after several mentions of it, to come here and meet with a doctor who could help him. A good one, but not too expensive. It better not be expensive, anyway. Vincent hadn't bothered to get health insurance. And money, quite frankly, was something he lacked.

The door opened without making a sound, something Vincent was unused to. All the doors in the Cosa Nostra base were squeaky and desperately needed oiling. But at least with the noise he knew when someone was opening a door. If they were as quiet as the door in this office, someone could sneak in and kill him or rob him or cause some kind of trouble and he wouldn't know until it was too late. Luckily he could see the door perfectly and watched it with interest, hoping the doctor had finally come and this would soon be over.

Thank the Lifestream for simple blessings.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, Mr. Valentine," Dr. Kramer said in greeting as he closed that disturbingly un-squeaky door behind him. "We had a bit of a backup in getting your results." He held a manilla folder in his hands, a folder Vincent knew had his name and medical history recorded within it. Not that the medical history inside was very long; a good thirty-year chunk was missing, one that this particular doctor found an extremely intriguing task to fill out. This particular doctor was an experienced man, older than Cid and older-looking than Vincent, but younger than his patient at the ripe age of fifty-six. His hair was pure white and his skin a little dark and covered in spots and wrinkles and visible veins. His pale blue eyes looked droopy around the edges with sagging skin that had seen many a joyful and tearful day, but they were intelligent, sympathetic, and best of all, kind. He had pens in his lab coat, freshly pressed khaki-colored pants, and a potbelly in progress that made for a quiet, silly comfort when consulting with him. Hair was beginning to grow out of his ears, too, as though it had taken a trip from the very top of his head down into his brain and was looking out at the world from a different point of view, maybe taking pictures and gossiping. Cid recommended this particular doctor to Vincent because he was his own primary physician; he felt Vincent would like him, and wouldn't feel intimidated by any pressing obligation to give up his intriguing body structure for the sake of science. "This guy won't push you like other guys will," Cid had told him. "He believes in keeping medical information confidential, like it's supposed to be. Unless, y'know, it's required by law or somethin'."

And, for the most part, Vincent believed him. He had no real reason to object. And he knew, deep down in his heart, seeing a doctor was something his mother would want him to do. In fact, she'd be pissed at him for waiting this long. He tried not to stare at that manilla folder. "What kind of a backup?"

Kramer waved it off casually and plopped down on the infamous doctor's stool. "Nothing serious. One of the nurse's aids was having problems with the machine, is all. She's just learning how to operate it."

"Comforting," Vincent commented, which made Cid laugh. He had accompanied Vincent for the comfort of being a familiar face, introducing two people he liked to each other and providing support for his Don and secret lover. Not that chances were likely Vincent's health had been deteriorating too much; he functioned perfectly fine. But he had previously heard a little soliloquy from him concerning doctor's offices and Hojo. For Vincent's mental health, Cid tagged along.

Dr. Kramer chuckled too. Then he got serious. "Well, it may be the only comforting thing you hear from me today, besides that you truly are in excellent condition considering your age and, uh, the brief history you gave me about your thirty-year-long 'disappearance.' I hope we can get into more detail on that at another appointment?"

Vincent didn't say anything. He neither nodded nor shook his head. He waited for Kramer to continue. Which, after clearing his throat and opening the folder, he did. "Most of your scores were good," he said. "Respiration is fine, cholesterol level is excellent, weight... Well, that's a little tricky considering your arm there, which adds an undetermined amount of weight to you, but off an estimation I would say it's about right where it should be, perhaps a little under. You look malnourished from over here, possibly a result from that... uh, those 'events.'" He cast a shady eye in Vincent's direction before returning to his papers. "But your blood pressure is a little high. That worries me. It could increase your chances of heart attack or stroke. You said you aren't taking any medications?" Vincent nodded. "Interesting. But there are traces of mako in your bloodstream. That just might be your culprit." Vincent once again nodded, passive. Cid remained fairly quiet until now.

"And his wrist?"

The doctor smiled. "That's probably the worst of it."

3

Yuffie wasn't having much luck. She lost the sedan a long time ago and had since given up, no thanks to a little mishap with her shoelaces she'd rather not reflect upon. The worst part was having to make a report to the Don... er, Vincent, on it. If she told him she tripped and lost her way in the city, he'd be beyond pissed, he'd be... in berserker mode, ready to hack her head off and everything.

So, for the last two hours, she had been wandering around the alleyways, trying to make up some good excuse as she to why she lost sight of their perpetrators. Of course, she also had to figure out where she was and return to the base somehow. Usually cell phones were the way to go in this case, but upon that trip over her shoelaces, her cell phone fell out of her pocket and broke.

Yeah. Life sucked.

She wandered dejectedly until she came upon an interesting sight: groups of important-looking men standing around in the streets and chatting. They seemed to hover around a particular building, just across the street from a pie factory. Some of them dressed in suits, others lab coats, and there were a couple that sported solidly colored bald heads. She checked out the sign in front of the building.

**The Umbra Company**

**Manufacturing, Marketing, and Service**

Well. Wasn't that interesting? She was sure old Vincent would _love_ to hear about this. Just as she got all happy thinking of what she'd tell him (and what his reaction might be), another, smaller group of guys came from around the corner, carrying a much less formal looking... somebody... in the midst of them. That somebody, though she couldn't see well from this angle, kicked, frenzied, and yelled about having just been kidnapped and taken hostage. He also screamed something else that she could barely hear...

Tuning into those sneaky ninja skills of hers, she traveled closer, keeping to the shadows. Now the somebody's screams were shockingly clear—as was his appearance.

Silver hair.

Yuffie gasped and covered her mouth immediately for fear of drawing attention. That guy... That guy looked like Sephiroth! Oh, when Vincent... No, when _Cloud_ heard about this... She bolted off down the alleyway without a second thought as to where she was going or why. She just needed to get out of there. Right when she was halfway down the first alley, she heard the Sephiroth-lookalike shriek:

"LET ME GO! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO YOU! ASSHOLES! WHY DON'T YOU GET THE HINT ALREADY?! I'M NOT—"

Yuffie didn't catch exactly who that somebody claimed not to be, but she took a wild guess, and took another wild guess that that somebody was lying.

4

Cosa Nostra wasn't the biggest criminal gang on the block, but they were growing steadily larger as their interests and those interested by them widened, and they _were_ a criminal gang. Tifa Lockhart didn't entirely approve, and neither did Cloud, but he went along with it, because hell, Shinra did much worse over the course of the years than Vincent Valentine could do in a few months. Besides, it kept them safe, and the law couldn't touch them when they played around loopholes and used their power to get "above" what law was left in their pathetic excuse for a government.

Cosa Nostra's main business was prostitution. Yes, exactly. That's what Cloud thought. You're absolutely right. Yes, Vincent _is_ a dirty old man. Okay, no, really, let's get serious here.

Cosa Nostra's main business was prostitution. As strange as it was to think that old Vinnie V. would dare degrade women in such a way, he was older now, more sensible, wiser, and weary of the world in a way he didn't used to be. He didn't think of it as degrading. He saw it as profitable. Profitable and _noble_ in a twisted sort of way. Such feelings were natural, such hormones were secreted by the body in its everyday processes in order to carry out other natural processes which included—yes—procreation. But not everyone could find a mate. Not everyone's mates were willing to succumb to the hormones every time their partner had the will. This would be fine if the hormones vanished when they weren't wanted. Alas, hormones were not that obedient. They were rebel chemicals, pestering and whining and crying and begging until they were used for their purpose. They tormented, tortured, and, on good days, negotiated. But in the end the feeling was there, and unless something else overcame the hormones, they weren't about to go away.

Thus, Vincent Valentine created a solution and opened it to the public. Sex didn't hurt anybody unless it was rape, so why make it illegal to run a brothel in the first place? He didn't see the point. So he took a page from the hormones' book and rebelled. He purchased a smaller building three blocks away from the Cosa Nostra headquarters. He repaired the building to make it look attractive—marble green carpeting, burgundy-painted walls, clean, regularly polished oak furniture, erotic paintings adorning those walls, and a sign on the outside welcoming guests. He called it La Maison des Misérables, where happy endings came to folks who often found themselves in misery. This was a place where you weren't pushed into having sex, but encouraged to relieve stress.

And, as proper, a transparent plastic box of condoms free for the taking was placed plainly in view on the secretary's desk. As there was a secretary. The prostitutes here weren't treated like whores, but their own bosses. Vincent took good care of his girls. They were the ones who saw doctors frequently.

There was no detectable way of knowing that the business was owned and run by Cosa Nostra, except by the emblem of Cerberus—the very same as on Vincent Valentine's gun and cell phone—placed high at the top of the building, where only the keenest of eyes could see it. This was for protection. Protection from the police... and protecting the brothel from rival gangs, as they would know where to look for the emblem. And they would know not to mess with such an organization growing in popularity and notoriety.

Or at the least, they better not.

5

The troops returned from investigation that evening looking the most bummed out they'd ever been. Barret Wallace had somehow managed to retrieve search warrants for the warehouses, but when he led the boys out to make use of them, they found nothing. No leads, no clues, no evidence of anything, not even the murder of the brothers. It was all very discouraging. None of them wanted to tell the Don and disappoint him. Especially knowing he was already upset as it was, no need to pour unnecessary salt in the wound.

That didn't stop the Don from wanting a report, however. Three of them met in his office, the Don at his desk, the lieutenant Cloud Strife by his side, and Doug Etheridge standing nervously across from them, ashamed he had so little to report. He held his black beret in his hands and turned it round and round in anxiety. He really didn't have much to be nervous about, it was just that... The Don's mood was a little intimidating. When he got into a bad mood, it was like the entire base was made subconsciously aware of it and the tension in the air rose by seventy-five percent or more depending on how bad a mood he was in (and if Chaos was involved).

"Did you find anything?" Vincent asked, and Doug shook his head vigorously from side to side. Then he stopped, hesitated, and nodded.

"We didn't find anything at the warehouses," he explained, "but we did overhear some employers under the Umbra Company talking about a strange man they discovered recently. They say... They say he looks like Sephiroth."

Cloud's eyes widened. He stared at Vincent. "You think...?"

"I don't know," Vincent replied. He stared at his right hand and shook it, as though waiting to hear something crack. "Tell Cid to send someone to the Company... Send someone else to check on Yuffie. I haven't heard from her all day. And... get my medicine, would you?" Cloud nodded and ran off. Doug lingered, blinking stupidly, like that would help him comprehend.

"Is it bad, sir?"

Vincent didn't look at him. "Sometimes."

He hated being right.


	3. The Start of Something Big

**Pyro's Notes:** Well, we're here and almost on schedule this time! Chapter Three, the beginning of the REAL deal! If you've been wondering why the chapters are so long, it's because, as this chapter will reveal, there is a lot of plot and many ongoing story lines working their ways into the same story. Don't you LOVE intricate plots? We do. Enjoy the chapter.

**Disclaimer:** FFVII is owned by Square Enix. Simple as that.

**Tainted Blood**

_Chapter Three: The Start of Something Big  
_

Lucita wasn't happy. But not to the point of wanting to kill someone. This Valentine made for a good chess player. She picked her phone up and punched the number for Maverick's cell phone.

"Report." The man knew what she wanted.

"We dealt with the faulty security, but it seems we haven't been successful in finding that rat-nest in our building structure. Do you want us to investigate the area further for that packrat?"

She was quiet as she deliberated a course of action. "The Cosa Nostra had gotten search warrants for our warehouses and found nothing. I hope you moved the merchandise to a safe location. As for the rat, I want you to check every single person in the Organization. I don't care if you have to torture any suspicious personnel." The anger in her voice was audible to the secretary and to anyone in the corridor.

"Yes, Ma'am. Are the three there yet? I let Kadaj drive the sedan to HQ and I am rather worried." Lucita smirked and looked at her three wonderful children. Kadaj was slumping in his seat because he accidently parked in a handicap zone and he didn't have the little hanging dilly, Yazoo was painting her claws a deep purple and making sure she was doing it right, and Loz was typing up an official report to give to their mother.

"Yes they are. Safe and sound. The car is also in one piece with no scratches and dents. He learned well." Kadaj smiled slightly and let his ears stand up straight.

"Ma'am, I am also under the impression that I am to personally torture the traitor with your preferred methods. Is that correct, ma'am?"

She smirked. "Yes, that is correct. And use your brand of irony if you want. That is all. You are dismissed until further notice." Lucita hung up and turned her attention to her three dears.

"Loz, want to give me the report? Or do you want to let someone else do so?" Her gaze was full of warmth and approval for them. Loz stopped typing and closed the laptop, saving before he did so.

"Mother, we went to the warehouses to inspect the merchandise and found three intruders on the premises. As per our orders, we approached and eliminated them. Due to the lateness of the night, Maverick suggested we stay at a hotel in South Edge and leave for here in the morning. On our way there, Yazoo kept asking if someone was following us because, for some strange reason, she could sniff the scent of Wutai roses every time we stopped at a stop sign.

"Maverick assured us that no one was following us and we made it to the hotel without incident. We got our rooms and slept. In the morning, we ate at the Clairdon restaurant and I paid the tip. Kadaj said he wanted some air before we were to come back to HQ, so we waited until he returned an hour later. He was white and panting hard. We asked him what was wrong, but he only said that you would be the first told because it pertains to Sephiroth."

"It does?" asked the Don as she looked at Kadaj. "Stand and speak." He did as instructed

"I was walking around because the food at the café didn't really agree with me. I was going by a building with the Umbra logo on it when I heard a guard say that they found a Sephiroth clone and a strange stone that allows only certain people to teleport to any location they desire. I also overheard them speaking that he claims to be from another planet and he can change shape to a dragon. Upon hearing that, I ran as fast as I could and got to the hotel before the Umbra men knew I was there." He sighed and hung his head, thinking he could have waited longer at the alley to hear more of the enigmatic man.

"Kadaj, you have done well. I have a new mission for you..." She was about to tell them when Yazoo stood up.

"Mother, Loz left out the part about the blood-covered white van!"

--

"You got to be kidding me. You want to shove that _WHERE_?!" demanded Seeker as he stood in front of a nurse with a pill, bare-ass naked. Two whole days of this torture and he was ready to croak.

"You heard me. Put it in your rectum and lay down while we preform more tests on you. If you will, I want a urine sample when you're ready and the doctor wants a sperm sample to see if your DNA can be transferred to human children."

The nurse went deaf when he shouted one very loud word:

"WHAT?!" The doctor walked in and looked at the two.

"Hurry up, I don't want to take forever. We have so much work and research to do." The blond left the room with Seeker looking pale as the nurse did her duty.

"I HATE YOU FILTHY BASTARDS AND YOUR FUCKING RESEARCH AND TESTS!!" The doctor laughed as he walked away.

--

Maverick walked about a bound and bruised man like a tiger would a wounded boar, toying with it's head.

"Why did you betray us? We gave you money, food, shelter. And you repay us with betrayal and insults. Why?" The black-haired man spit bloody saliva onto the blond's face and suit, laughing at him.

"They paid more. And I told them of your illegal materia and your drugs. I even told them of Lucita's special materia: the One Winged Angel. The Cosa Nostra will destroy you like that bitch destroyed the Lynx Organization. I am avenging your father's death! Why are you not happy with that?" Maverick took a hammer with tiny spikes on it and hit the man in the face.

"What you do not realize is that I paid Lucita Shinagami to kill him. he _is_ the greatest assassin alive. He was worthless and pathetic. And he was using all the money like he had millions, which he did not." He wiped the spittle off his face with a grimace, thinking of the stains the blood wouldl leave on his new suit.

"I didn't want to run the group and since Lucita wanted a pet hobby, I let her have it. Now, we have the black market on materia and in drugs. In the daylight hours, the Organization sells the best in medical technology and in the best care for orphanages. Nightlights for the world in our hand. Ah, another thing before I have you slowly killed. Did you tell them about who was running the Organization?" The man was stunned speechless in the aftermath of that statement.

"You... hired Lucita?" Maverick smirked at the man in the bound chair. Was this man really that stupid or did he just not listen to common sense?

"Yes. But you didn't answer my question." The man shook his bloody and battered head.

"The man I talked to didn't stay long." Maverick nodded, smiling slowly to let the man know that he just did them a great big favor.

"Guards. Mutilate him and make it slow. The Don will not be happy with this new information we have acquired. Jonathan. After he dies, string his body and make it look like the Cosa Nostra did it. Is that understood?" The young man nodded and ran out of the room to passing the commands from the second-in-command. Maverick took his phone out the his pocket and pressed the speed-dial for Lucita, slightly fearing the temper that she would undoubtably have.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid I have some bad news..."

--

Lucita stood, looking out of the window as her three children sat in the chairs she provided.

"Are you sure the van was covered in blood?"

Loz nodded. "The scent of drying blood and mutilated corpses is highly unmistakable. The vehicle looked like someone wanted it to look like one of the cars in the Vice City games. Gashes, slashes, rips and blood smears were all over the van. Like it went through a warzone." The other two nodded in agreement, shuddering at the recollection. Suddenly the phone rang, making Yazoo jump.

Lucita smiled slightly and answered the black office phone. The other person was telling their mother some bad news, because her face grew dark and her eyes started to glow evilly.

"I want him dead for betraying us. Use any means necessary to make sure he is dead. Do you understand me?" Maverick, the only person to straight-up tell her the bad news, said affirmative and hung up to do as she commanded.

"Great. That is done with." She sighed, then shook her head, making her long black hair wave and sway gently. The triplets looked at each other and mentally noted the whole compound was on 'Temper Alert' now.

"Never mind that. Kadaj, Loz, Yazoo. I want you to go to the Umbra Company and kidnap one of the guards. Preferably a high ranking guard or, if you can, one of the scientists and rescue this 'Sephiroth clone' from Umbra's clutches." The trio looked at each other and shrugged.

"But Sephiroth is in your head. And the rest of the clones, supposedly, have been completely destroyed by Cloud Strife. How do they have an alien clone?" asked Yazoo as she examined a sharp, purple-painted claw.

"I know that, dear, but if they have a clone, we have to make sure they do not harm him in any way. If you are in the position to do so, I want you to get him out. If any of you are in the right place at the right time, see who is in that van." Lucita wanted to make sure these newcomers weren't going to be a problem.

The three nodded and stood up.

"Is that all, Mother?" asked Loz. Lucita nodded and stood up herself.

"You three have until tomorrow to pack and prepare. Give this silver feather to the Armory Guard and get the Class Z Materia, Weaponry, and Armor. If you have to, make sure your tails are armored as well. Yazoo, since your tail is the longest and the most prehensile, you can make use of the Scorpion's Tail Armor. It will be a great way to test it in a real battle." Yazoo nodded and the three bowed deeply, knowing better than to argue with her temper.

"Do not fail me. I want some good news to hear." The three bowed again and left the room to go prepare for the upcoming mission. She sighed as she looked into her purse to look for her sleep medication.

"Great. I'm out of sleeping pills. To the pharmacy, I go."

--

Lucita searched through row after row after row of various sleeping pills and seeing if they actually worked on her unique physiology.

"This is ridiculous. You think these people would sell some of Lynx's meds... stupid lot they are..." She walked to her left and accidently bumped into a hot blond man.

"Oh, sorry! I need to look where I'm going. I'm so sorry."

The man smiled and bent down to help Lucita pick up the medicine. "Hey, don't worry. What's your name?"

She looked up and handed him the bottle of pills. "I am Lucana Bevellon. Who are you?" Lucita was instantly smitten with this man, but she wasn't a fool for he could be from a rival group. So she went with her 'civilian' name and attire. She wore a light blue tank top with a white blouse, a knee-length light blue skirt, a pair of white high-heels with thin strings to tie around her ankles and calves, and a silver band with angel wings emblazoned into it to hold her hair back. In the middle of her hair band was what looked like a summon materia, but it was cut to fool people into thinking it was an emerald set in between the wings like the engraved wings were apart of it.

"Cloud Strife. What are you here for?"

She smiled shyly. He was very good looking and the mere sight of his gorgeous blue eyes put butterflies in her stomach. "I have a bad case of insomnia, so I need meds to help me sleep. What about you?"

He waved the question aside. "I'm here for a friend. He hates doctors. It's for his wrist." He looked her up and down, giving her the impression he thought her to be rather good-looking herself. "You know, I know of a place that I could take you to dinner. Saturday sound good?"

She smiled again and nodded. "Yes, six?"

He nodded, thinking that the Seventh Heaven didn't get much in the way of customers on a Saturday at six.

"Okay then. Six sharp. Here's my address. See you later." She got her sleeping pills and paid, leaving the store with a wave in Cloud's direction.

"Be careful, buddy. You don't know if she's with any rival group or not," remarked a nearby young grey-eyed man.

"I don't know you, either, so how much do I pay?" The register dinged and the price for Vincent's medicines were paid.

"Good-bye and good luck." Cloud waved the man off and left, thinking of the date he set for that Saturday.

--

Cloud walked up the two flights of stairs and smiled slightly. Oh, Tifa was going to be pissed with him, but he didn't want to leave Cosa Nostra because of it being a criminal group now. And frankly, he was rather tired of the 'hero' image that the world gave him because of Tifa exaggerating the whole thing. He sighed and stopped to look out a window.

That was the reason why he was going on a date with Lucana, anyway. Tifa and he had an argument over him staying in Cosa Nostra and about where she was in his heart. Stupid. After the loss of Aerith, he couldn't really love any woman without thinking of her. Though, when he tried telling the martial artist that, she simply didn't believe him. So, the date was to prove to Tifa that he didn't love her. He only liked her as a really good friend and an ally in his time of need.

He sighed as he started walking again and approached the top of the stairs. Cloud, for some reason, got this feeling that Vincent wasn't really happy, but then, with the last few days, no one really was. He walked slowly to the door at the end of the hall and knocked.

"Come in," said Vincent. Yup, he's not happy. Did Tifa call and gripe him out? Or was it something else? Cloud walked in and looked at Vincent, wondering what was up all the while.

"I got your medication." Vincent waved for him to approach. Cloud did so and put the bag on the insanely orderly desk. loud would love to keep his room like that, but Marlene and Denzel saw that he didn't really need a clean room. Vincent nodded as he took the bag and opened it to take the bottle of pills out.

"Vincent, I'm going on a date with someone on Saturday at six in the evening this weekend. Is that permissible?"

Vincent's gaze went from the small bottle of pills to Cloud. "Who, where, and why?" he asked a little sharply.

"Lucana Bevellon, the Seventh Heaven, and to piss Tifa off."

The Cosa Nostra Don sighed. "Children," he muttered lightly as he shook his head in displeasure. "Details," he demanded.

"Okay. This is how it went..."

–Flashback–

Tifa was behind the bar, wiping it clean as Cloud entered the place. "Hey, Teefs. How are the kids?" She pointed to the room the two were playing in as he sat on one of the bar-stools.

"Being good for the most part. How are you?" He shrugged the question off and propped an elbow on the bartop. Tifa suddenly got this look in her eyes that made Cloud a little weary of her. "Cloud, have you thought about settling down and letting Vincent handle the Cosa Nostra with Cid's help instead of yours? The kids miss you a lot and you seem so tired all the time. Ever thought to call it quits?"

The blond man looked at her and sighed, feeling that he knew where this was going to go in a matter of minutes. "No, I don't want to call it quits. I enjoy working with Vincent and Cid in the Cosa Nostra. I'm kinda tired of being the boss, so Vincent bossing me around is a nice change of pace. As for settling down, I still have this urge to go and do, regardless of the group being criminal." He sighed when her face twisted into that one look that guaranteed a really nasty argument.

"You said it. It's a criminal organization! And powering that group is prostitution! That was made illegal for a reason! Don't you care about what people would think about you if they found out?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. Marlene and Denzel were smart and shut the door to let Cloud and Tifa have their privacy.

"No, I don't care. Personally, Vincent has a good idea about that brothel! A lot of people don't have that easy way of relieving those urges and they go nuts. I think that helped Sephiroth go nuts and try to destroy the world. And as for illegal, Shinra twisted the laws to suit their needs and whims. They made it illegal because they weren't getting the money from it. And Tifa, because of the Meteor incident, everyone thinks I am a freakin' saint! I just did what I did to get revenge for Zack! I'm tired of people assuming I'm a hero in everything I do!" His voice was near yelling at this point. Tifa merely glared and shook her head.

"You _are_ a hero! Saving a world usually is thought of as an act of a hero! Besides, the kids miss you! I do too." She leaned forward, her deep blue low-cut t-shirt revealing a nice section of her cleavage. And the only thing Cloud thought of was, 'That is supposed to be attractive?' Sure, he was interested in women, Zack made sure of that. Zack took him on many dates with Aerith, to 'teach him how to woo a girl'. But, when he encouraged the blond teen, the attempts ended in embarrassing failure. Hence the reason why he really didn't ask girls out much.

"Tifa, you're a great friend. One I'll treasure all my life, but I just don't have that interest in you." Now, if you thought Tifa was mad before, then this was the point that really got to her.

"Oh? Then why did you follow me to Mt. Nibel all those years ago, huh? You wanted to protect me and that is proof enough that you love me."

Cloud growled in frustration at Tifa's thick-headedness. "No, I wanted to make sure that you didn't get hurt, And that was my mistake." The look on Tifa's face basically told him what she was going to do soon. "And I'm thinking about starting my own drug trade. What will the world think of me then?"

The slap was an inevitable thing. The red mark was inevitable too. Now that he was pissed off at her, to stifle the urge to hit her back, he stormed out of the bar.

The two kids opened the door to their room and walked to the brunette martial artist, doing their best to comfort her and to wipe her tears away, wondering why Cloud made Tifa cry so much...

–Flashback Over–

Vincent sighed, wondering how Cloud managed to save the world as many times as he did. Cloud sat in front of the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. The look the blond gave the window reminded Vincent of Yuffie when she didn't get her way.

"Well, since you're intent on upsetting Tifa, I won't stop you. But I will ask that you leave your phone on just in case I need you in a minute's notice." The tone the Don used didn't give Cloud the chance to misinterpret the statement.

"Yes sir. Want me to do anything else while I'm here?"

Vincent nodded and waved for him to approach the desk. "I need this done..."

--

If there was one thing Seeker hated the most, it was those horrible, stupidly insane, maniacally retarded, Umbra scientists. He went to better science _fairs_ in his elementary boarding school than this whack-job of a laboratory.

"Can I eat before I die of starvation? And can you make it dead and edible? I don't need to kill my food beforehand!" A man entered the room and smirked at the bound captive.

"Nah, we want to see if you can fight well, or if you are a silver-haired pussy."

Seeker looked at the manacles on his hands and feet and glared. "Care to find out first-hand?" The man laughed and chucked him a cold cheeseburger. Seeker snatched it out of the air and ripped the paper off. "Thanks."

The guy laughed again, but this time, it was a warm laugh. "Just do me a favor and don't tell anyone you got it from me." Seeker nodded and practically inhaled the burger. "Name's Mack Parkerton."

"Seeker Giovanni. What are those guys going to do with the Linotis Stone?" The guy shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. The two stayed in a companionable silence until Mack pushed himself off the doorframe and looked back and forth.

"How about this: I bring you edible food and you do your damnedest to piss these asses off." The were-dragon nodded, liking the deal a lot. "See ya later, then." Mack waved and left, making sure the door was locked and secured before the security guards got there.

"Yeah, see ya..."


	4. The Shit Hits the Fan

**Pyro's Notes:** Twinkling toilets in Timbuktu, Batman! This is one packed chapter! Action-packed, drama-packed... it's like everything just _happens_ at once! I'll keep this short and sweet then: it's a long read, so take your time. Visit as often as you need to. But most importantly, I hope you like it. I wish you love it. But no need to be my star, because I'm supposed to be yours! Oui? (Okay, that was pretty corny. Anybody else got comments? I'd love to read them.)

**Disclaimer:** FFVII is pwned by Square Enix. ...wait, that's not right. Or is it? Property + owned?

**Tainted Blood**

_Chapter Four: The Shit Hits the Fan_

1

"Why won't these goddamn phones stop ringing!?" No matter how hard Cid Highwind slammed the receiver in its proper holder, the sound refused to die. When one call ended, another came through. And they just... wouldn't... _stop_...

"Christ!" The voice of someone passing by the open door; a foot soldier—Jim. He paused in the doorway. "Busy day today, huh?"

Cid nodded without looking at him, since his hands were occupied in holding his head up. He resisted the urge to crack his forehead open on the desk. "Why the _hell_ did Cloud have to take today off? Of all days, he had to choose the busiest!"

"It's not his fault," Jim tried in Cloud's defense. "He didn't know today would be busy. Saturdays usually aren't."

His attempts failed; Cid wasn't buying it. "He had this planned, I know it!"

"_Just pick up the goddamn phone!_" someone from down the hall screamed, and in reflex Cid did so, Jim laughing at his skittish reaction.

"You really wouldn't make a very good permanent _consigliere_, y'know. The poor Don wouldn't be able to get anything done!"

Cid mumbled something Jim couldn't hear and waved him out. For the sake of Cid's sanity, Jim left without a word, tacky grin glued to his face. No, Cid wouldn't make the best counselor. That was why he was just the Donette. Second-in-command? Not really. Honorary and beloved member, yes. Mrs. Don.

Hey, that was kinda catchy. But only kinda. And only catchy. He'd never want somebody to address him that way; the teasing he got from the other guys was bad enough. Ever since that nude poker kidnapping incident...

The caller was getting impatient with him, however; what was worse was the voice sounded familiar. Cid dragged himself out of memory lane. "Yuffie? The hell do you want? Where the hell are you?"

She huffed at him at the other end, the line surprisingly free of static. "I'm two blocks away from the Umbra Company. Cid, you have to tell Vincent—Hey, what are you doing on Cloud's phone, anyway? I thought he was right-hand man."

"He is, but he went on a 'date' today with some chick that's _not_ Tifa."

"A date?! Ohmygod, really? What's her—"

"It's not important, kid. Just tell me what you were going to say."

"Right. Well, I was just chasing after these guys like I was supposed to, lost sight of them, and somehow I ended up near Umbra, where they were bringing in this other guy who looked _exactly like Sephiroth!_ They said they were gonna do experiments and he was yelling and threatening to kill them and he looked really powerful and—"

"Exactly like Sephiroth, you say?"

"Uh-huh. _Exactly_."

Cid wasn't sure what to make of this. "Okay, well, I guess I'll go ask Vincent about it, if you think it's worth investigating."

"Cid..." Yuffie's tone became uncharacteristically serious. "Trust me. It's _worth_ investigating."

2

Vincent dwelled in his office, a passive action that had grown to be his worst habit as of late. When the organization began, he seldom spent this much time at his desk, talking to captains, Cloud, and managing finances. He was always a more "do-it-himself" kind of guy. Yet now, in his undeniably older age, he spent an increasing amount of time directing the action rather than being a part of it. It was a significant change on him. And in many ways, he hated it. He was tired of hearing the rain beat down on the roof. But, considering his health, it wasn't like he had much choice.

He placed his pen at the top of Cloud's latest report on the progress of the rookie foot soldiers and flexed his hand. The muscles were stiff throughout the palm. It was almost like he'd spent the entire day writing. Yet at most he'd spent fifteen minutes on it. The rest of the time he'd been reading, and even holding a book was difficult. He had to lay it on the desk after two pages, or else his wrist would shake. His fingers remained fully functional for the time being; a few joints stung if he bent them too much, but the doctor told him that would be expected with his condition. It would spread.

This was all very depressing. He'd rather not live like this. He didn't want to be the Don who reigned for a total of two years before he couldn't move anymore. He didn't have an "heir" yet. He hadn't trained anyone to take his place. He thought he would be able to do this on his own for much longer. Maybe... Maybe it was time to look, then. Maybe he ought to find someone to take his place...

Cid entered the office, with a ticked off expression, and offered a handset to Vincent. Vincent took it in his left hand. "Yes?"

"Vincent? It's Yuffie. You know how I was supposed to be tracking those guys who killed those men by the warehouse?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I kinda got lost and—"

"I'm not your GPS system."

"I _know_! I wasn't asking for directions! I—"

"What happened to your cell phone? Where are you calling from?"

She growled in frustration. "Will you listen for a minute?! I'm in a department store—my cell phone broke when I fell and lost the car... But anyway, I was _going_ to say that your friend President Goodman is up to something."

"When isn't he?"

"I don't know, but it's _bad_. He's storing a Sephiroth-lookalike in his laboratory. I heard them say something about materia, and running experiments on him, and looking for Jenova, and—"

"So you're saying there's a possibility of Sephiroth's return."

"Yes."

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't know! I just thought... I just thought _you_ might want to take control of it. So Sephiroth doesn't happen again. Prevent another Meteor."

Vincent thought about this. While he wasn't fully convinced that Umbra had Sephiroth on their hands, he didn't want to ignore it and become the cause of another Meteor, as Yuffie mentioned. He glanced at Cid, then at the wall. "Alright. Give me your exact location. I'll send someone to help you bring that Sephiroth lookalike to me."

3

Oh, yes, they were sneaky bastards. Incredibly sneaky. Or maybe the people President Goodman hired were just too stupid to notice. Whatever the case may be, the Company had three uninvited guests lurking in their frequently waxed corridors.

Kadaj took the lead, tiptoeing in the shadows down the hall, stopping every now and then at a corner or behind a plant to check for sentries. Yazoo followed at a lag of three paces, hand hovering above the stun gun at her hip. Kadaj had a way of being cautious, but he also had a way of being unconscious of the way he took out his enemies. If she could take out the guards before he had a chance to draw attention to them, all the better. However, Loz was an entirely different story. He was what slowed their progress the most, straggling farther and farther from them and blubbering to himself all the way. Sometimes, Yazoo pitied him. Other times, she wanted to rip his throat out just to shut him up.

Shame that would spill too much blood.

This expedition seemed almost too easy, by the way the three managed to slither into the laboratories without much hassle. Not many guards around, and in the midst of the afternoon no less. Kadaj had told Mother it wouldn't be easy at this time of day, but now that he thought back on it... maybe she knew something about Umbra that he did not. Something no one bothered to inform him about. Like just maybe they _wanted_ the trio here. They _wanted_ Lynx to come and take the Sephiroth-like-thing away from them. But then why bother setting up this equipment?

No; it was more likely that the hallways were empty because of a business meeting, or a lunch break, or some distraction by lower-ranked Lynx scouts.

4

The mercury rose to an unfair number in too little time. Shouldn't they keep this place cool? Metal was a harsh conductor, and Seeker had the misfortune to be contained in it. Sweat dripped from his forehead, creating puddles at his feet. But all he could see was the single fluorescent lightbulb dangling over his face. It created a heat of its own that threatened to burn his eyes 'til they bled. But just as he seriously considered melting his way to freedom, Mack entered through the programmed door to his right, sweating mightily himself and carrying a mid-sized cooler.

"Thank the gods," Seeker moaned. "The Angel of Death hath come."

"Not quite," Mack replied, and set the cooler down, eyeing the sweat puddle with mild distaste. "But close." Upon lifting the lid, hot air assaulted the ice, creating steam and a soft sizzling sound. Mack took a can of Coke from the bottom, opened it with a kink and a hiss, and handed it to the prisoner, who drank as though he'd traversed the desert twice over. That made the Umbra serviceman laugh. "If you like that, wait 'til you see the rest." He proceeded to take cold cuts, lettuce, tomatoes, and bread from a corner of that blessedly chilled box and put them together. Seeker watched him intently, mouth taking a cue from the pores of his skin.

They settled into their lunch, eating in silence and appreciating the existence of ice. Between sandwiches, Mack explained that their air conditioning had been damaged ("The techs say a squirrel chewed the wiring, though how it got in there without getting chopped by the fans, I don't know."). They were working on a solution before the lab equipment burned out—already sent guys to install the spare AC. Seeker thanked the gods a second time, but before he could imagine the luxury of a running AC, the door to his right opened again, and three people stepped in.

5

Reeve Tuesti was having a marvelous day. The weather didn't bother him in the least. In fact, he embraced it. He breathed in the fresh air and smiled in the sunlight as he made his way down the streets of Edge. He had a message to deliver to Vincent, but first, he thought he might stop for a drink. Maybe even check in on his "business." While Reeve didn't necessarily approve, he thought the girls were nice. Er... not that he utilized their services. They only talked. Really. And maybe he slipped them a few gil for the sake of aiding Vincent. But nothing more than that. Honestly. He had a reputation to keep, you know.

He recognized the Cerberus emblem on the building and stopped before it. Despite that he'd been here plenty of times before (solely to check up with his friends!), something about the brothel didn't feel right. Nothing was damaged; the windows were fine. No one had driven by... Then he heard it, a faint sound that made his skin crawl. Was that a... woman's voice? Well, of course it was! It came from inside... and inside there were whores. That _shouldn't_ be unusual (the sex here was supposed to be fabulous), but for some reason, the women's voices disturbed him. Acting as an innocent, concerned citizen, he decided to see what was happening.

When Vincent created these establishments, he intended to instill a sense of order, cleanliness, and relaxation in his design. When Reeve entered the lobby, these feelings were replaced by panic, chaos, and... infestation. The women were everywhere, many of them covering their mouths, holding each other, or shrieking. Some cried. The secretary had the phone attached to her ear, her gaze fixed on the floor beyond her desk. But Reeve was more concerned about the ceiling; above him, light came through where there should a been a white surface on one side and a plush rug on the other. Why hadn't he noticed this from the outside? He followed the beam of light to find what broke through. And just about threw up his lunch.

It wasn't a bathtub, but may have originated from one. Globs of bright red flesh adorned the carpet in what appeared to have once been a human shape. Bits of bone stuck out in places, but looked almost eaten away. Burned off. Reeve lifted his eyes to meet the secretary's. "What happened here...?"

"It just... fell!" she said, voice shaking as much as the hand holding the phone to her ear. She pointed toward one of the couches, where a girl sat wrapped in a blanket. Her legs were coated in red juice. Her hair clung to her head in moist clumps. "Adria said she found a corpse in her bathtub, and was trying to remove it, and then it just... fell!"

"And she fell with it?" The girl nodded when Reeve looked at her. "I see. We'll have to report this. May I borrow your phone?"

The secretary, who hadn't had much luck in her attempts, nodded and ended the current call without warning whoever was on the other line. As she handed the phone to Reeve, she made one more speculation: "I think... someone's trying to frame Mr. Valentine."

6

No more time to waste, Vincent said. No more bullshit. He was in a bad enough mood that Yuffie failed her first mission. Deciding he couldn't risk her out on her own, he sent Barret and Jim to go with her on the search for the Sephiroth lookalike.

Just one mistake after another.

"OwowowowowowOW!" Yuffie hopped on one foot, tried to walk with the other, and nearly tumbled reverting back to the hop. Jim and Barret waited at the end of the hall.

"Not so loud," Jim warned. "You might wake the neighbors."

"I can't _help_ it!" she whined. "You should have told me the laser was there!"

"You should'a looked for the fuckin' lights." But as displeased as he sounded, Barret turned away with a smile. His stomach twisted with excitement; as soon as they found the Sephiroth clone, he was gonna clock 'em and toss 'em and beat 'em 'til no one could tell if it was Sephiroth or some phony. Hell, he didn't care. The last "Sephiroth lookalikes" caused enough trouble of their own to warrant such a smackdown. As for the noise Yuffie made, he wasn't worried about attracting attention. They'd already gotten three-fourths of the personnel off this floor by screwing up the air conditioning. And the likelihood of anyone else paying attention to Yuffie was slim to null.

Once Yuffie caught up, she leaned against the wall to examine her foot, tossing shoe and sock at Jim, who backed off immediately. Fierce red marks ran down her leg, the skin dried, shiny, and crinkly. Without the shoe, it was possible a few toes may have fallen off. Instead, the heel of her foot was blistered and the arch burned.

"Stepped right on top of it, huh?" Barret said.

"Yeah!" Yuffie sniffed. "And it's all your fault!"

"Sure it is."

Jim shook his head, trying not to laugh at her pain, and examined the keypad by the door. Then he took a torn corner, apparently from an important document, from his pocket and searched its contents. Finally, he returned to the keypad and punched in the code. The door opened before Yuffie got her sock back on.

7

Seeker saw the group from Cosa Nostra enter first. He didn't realize it then, but he would soon become the reincarnation of Helen. Beside him, Mack stood slowly, half-eaten sandwich forgotten in his hand. It dropped to the floor with a messy plop. Barret and Jim raised their weapons. Yuffie struggled with her shoe. Across the room, a second door slid open, and the trio from Lynx stepped in. This caught the attention of the others, and for a full, awkward five seconds, they stared at each other in silence.

Until Mack said, "Hey, you're not a allo—" Which reminded the groups they had missions to accomplish. Kadaj and Yuffie slid to the midst of the floor, wet with humidity, in attempts to grab Seeker before the other. They clashed into a tug-of-war battle; in unison, they released the mechanics of the shackles on his arms, and with nothing to bind him and kidnappers at his sides, all the were-dragon had to fight with were his legs. He thrashed in protest, but neither assailant gave in.

"What the hell is this?! Who are you people?!" But the cries were ignored.

"Didn't expect to see you bastards again," Barret said. He moved forward, pinning Mack into a corner. Yazoo stood opposite him, armed and wary.

She replied with a sneer: "I'd been hoping we wouldn't have to look at your ugly mugs again, either."

"I think my face is actually pretty gorgeous," said Jim. "But I don't know these people. Who are they?"

"They're remnants of Sephiroth," Barret explained. "Slimy motherfuckers who like manipulating children."

"Ah." Jim stepped closer to Loz, who welcomed the encounter with a blast to the foot soldier's shoulder. Jim stumbled back, shooting at Loz's foot as he went down, but the remnant leaped over the other man's head before anything could hit. He grasped his shoulder as Loz's shadow engulfed him. "So... Sephiroth left mementos. And he's one of them?" Jim nodded toward Seeker. Loz jammed his gun beneath Jim's chin.

"We're not sure." Mack spoke for the first time since the interruption. He held his hands up and stared downward in surrender. "We found him only a few days ago. There haven't been enough tests to determine if he's a part of Jenova. At least, I don't think so. I'm just a guard; they don't tell me anything worth shit."

"But he sure looks like it, don't he?" Barret went to Jim's aid, prompting Loz to unveil a second gun. Barret walked in a semi-circle to Jim's unoccupied side.

"I don't even know what that is!" the Sephiroth-lookalike cried. "I don't even know who _Sephiroth_ is!"

"We didn't either," said Yazoo. "Not at first. But once we learned of our origins..."

"Everything fell into place." Kadaj lunged and hit Yuffie hard on the head. She fell back, then pounced despite her bad leg. Kadaj dodged her attack and unsheathed a rapier. "Leave. This is _our_ brother."

Yuffie stared at the rapier, went cross-eyed, blinked and glared at Kadaj. "Did your mommy tell you that?!"

Just the mention of Mother stung Kadaj's heart. These fools thought she was dead, but he knew better. And she would show them. She would make them pay for mocking her in such an indignant fashion. He lashed out; the ninja cartwheeled backwards, and tossed three small shuriken in his direction. Kadaj fell to the floor for the safety, allowing the first to glide over his head. It pierced Mack's arm and stuck into the wall. The second cut into Loz's wrist, forcing him to drop the gun he aimed at Jim, who took the opportunity to punch his would-be captor in the teeth. At that time, they heard a disturbing squish. Seven heads turned to Seeker to find the last shuriken lodged in his cheek; blood bubbled over the silver edge and streamed into his collar, staining his clothes. Yuffie, stunned by both her lack of aim and the danger she put on their mission objective, tried desperately to pull the shuriken out before Kadaj recovered.

It was then that Seeker's eyes took on a funny look.

8

Late in the afternoon, the sky glowed a soft pink-orange that, in contrast with the tall gray buildings of Edge, could not look more magnificent and natural. The one thing left unaltered by man: the sunset. And how surprising was that? Man liked to reserve beauty; it just happened that the one thing that didn't need human help was the sun.

At this time, the Cosa Nostra headquarters was nearly empty. The night shifters would arrive when the day shifters dwindled. Cid Highwind finished organizing papers and laid his head on the desk to rest. Filling in for Cloud had been exhausting. He expected to hang around Vincent all day and discuss decisions, but on top of that was a lot of paperwork from their businesses to sort through. He had to use his best judgement and consult with Vincent constantly on how to run things. It made the work especially slow and tedious. Not to mention he sucked at it. Worse than his wife sucked at sucking.

Yet as much as his back cried, as much as his muscles whined, and as much as his brain complained, in the midst of it, his heart said yes. Yes, we do this for Vincent. Yes, we do this and we do it good and we make Vincent happy. He really cared about that guy. He couldn't help it. Since the beginning... they may not have had much in common, but they got along. They got along great. Better than friends. Better than brothers. Better than... well, better than he got along with Shera sometimes. She was a sweet lady. He didn't hate her, certainly not. He never would have married her if he hated her that much. But at the same time, he never felt the kind of guilt that you were supposed to feel when you cheated. He never felt the regret. Or the fear of getting caught. He never worried about it. Didn't lose sleep over it. In a way, it worked out well for both of them; Shera didn't like sex. Cid didn't like sex with Shera. So instead of bothering his wife about it, instead of hanging around Vincent's brothels, he used Vincent as an outlet. That was what adultery was about, right? Finding someone outside your home, someone you knew pretty well from work or from a friend, someone you saw often, and using that someone as an intimate who would take your pain away, make you feel better about life, about yourself, about your decisions. Someone who could relieve you of the stress for a little while.

Most people felt bad afterwards. More stressed. Paranoid. Ashamed. Cid didn't get any of that. He felt great afterwards. Refreshed. Younger. Like it was meant to be. Like the only reason he married Shera instead of Vincent was because gay marriage was illegal. Well, that, and the little fact that Vincent wasn't housewife material. Shera kept his house clean and cooked his food. He appreciated that. And he supposed he loved her in a certain way. But Vincent he loved... like the sweetheart he'd awaited all his life. Like the missing link between joy and ecstasy. He would do anything to make that sullen man happy. Anything to keep him alive. He made every excuse to be there beside him... and now that the day was almost over, he ought to make use of that time before heading home to Shera.

Cid paused outside the office door. He didn't hear anything from inside. For a moment, he panicked. Then he heard what sounded like the scratching of a pen on paper and relaxed. Vincent was fine. The pilot adjusted his pants and opened the door. "Well, I'm checking out," he announced. "Don't wait on me; I got business elsewhere."

"What sort of business is this?" asked Vincent, without looking up from his papers.

"Oh, you know..." Cid sauntered up to the desk and let his elbows rest there, grinning at Vincent in attempt to get his attention. "Whatever business you wanna give me."

The pen clattered on the wood as the hand holding it began to shake. Vincent grasped that hand with the other, the one that wasn't dying on him, and lowered it beneath the desk. It was easier to get the shaking to stop when he couldn't see it. "I don't need anything, thank you."

Cid stepped back; the grin vanished. "You sure? 'Cuz if you need some kinda... pain reliever, I can get it for ya."

Vincent shook his head. "Thank you, Cid. But no. I don't need anything." His breathing thinned and his face contorted into a grimace as he struggled with the uncontrollable shaking. He didn't know what caused it. If it was muscle tension... or stress... or if something terrible was happening inside him. He imagined his immune system, clean white spheres in his bloodstream, battling against sloppy, sickly green intruders causing inflammation in his flesh. And the white spheres were losing. It made him want to die.

Being the friend that he happened to be, Cid slipped behind the desk—Vincent was a little too preoccupied to tell him to stop—and put his arms around him. For a few minutes, Cid held on, feeling Vincent's whole body shake under him, and then it stilled. When this happened, it hurt him inside, pierced his soul sometimes; it hurt worse that his best friend wouldn't look at him afterwards. "Is that medicine workin'?" Vincent wouldn't talk to him, either. He kept his head bowed. His skin looked ashy. "I'm guessin' not. Fuckin' prescription shit ain't what it used to be. Don't help ya none. What good's a drug if it don't do the job?" He sighed, loosening his grip around Vincent's shoulders and kissed his cheek. "I'll getcha somethin' better." He backed off and headed for the door.

Behind him, Vincent laid his head on the desk, folding his hands in front of him. "I don't think there's anything that can make this go away..."

Cid pretended not to hear him. He left the building as quickly as his legs would allow, finding himself in the pharmacy around the corner before five minutes passed. He scoured the shelves. Of course, if prescriptions didn't work, why would this over-the-counter stuff do any good? He bombarded the pharmacist with questions. What's the best thing for muscle pain? How do you stop shaking? Loosen stiff joints? Have they found a cure for arthritis yet? Well, they better, or somebody's gonna have an angry airship pilot to deal with.

He left the building disgruntled, infuriated, and depressed, with few helpful answers and no way to buy the useful stuff without a script. He tried calling the doctor, but he was out. That left him with only one option: since he definitely couldn't risk leaving Vincent to suffer, he had to go home and get supplies to make him comfortable. Hell, he might even bring Vincent back to his house. It'd be easier to watch him that way. Shera wouldn't mind. It'd be better than staying out all night at the base. She'd get pissy about that. Boy, did he hate it when Shera got pissy. He didn't think it was possible when he first met her, but once they settled down, her moods became increasingly bold.

Sometimes he feared she was pregnant.

But that never turned out to be the case, so why worry? He decided he wouldn't, and as soon as he reached his modest home in his modest town, discovering his modest wife asleep on the couch, he slipped into the kitchen and began gathering everything he believed would cure Vincent of his internal crazies. He packed lotions, creams for cool relief, pills for joint pain. Not beer, but whiskey, because alcohol was a depressant, which slowed the nervous system, and whiskey was stronger than beer. He packed cloths, blankets, and pillows. Ace bandages, a first aid kit (though he'd be surprised if the base didn't have one on hand, he wanted to bring his own because he knew what was in it), several bottles of water. Next to that he stuffed food and a few medical books, hoping that one of them may contain something that would help.

Praying these provisions were enough, Cid started for the door again, slumping his bag of supplies over one shoulder. It was then that his other shoulder was assaulted by a cold, bony hand. Or at least, in his alert state and the darkness of his home, it felt that way.

"Captain?" Shera's voice was heavy and low, mangled with the drug our brains put out when put to sleep. Cid turned slowly, letting the bag slide down his arm. "Where are you going? Didn't you just—" She yawned, covering her mouth and almost trying to suppress it. "—come home?"

"Er, yeah," her husband replied. "But I just came for a few things. Still got a lotta work to do. Heh heh."

"Oh." Shera backed off, and Cid thought he found a way out without any trouble. But he was wrong. She didn't stop him. She didn't protest. She merely stated the truth. "You're going to see Vincent."

He couldn't disagree. Neither could he leave. She cast some sort of... force field around him with that gloomy tone of hers. It wouldn't let him move. But why was seeing Vincent such a bad thing? They were friends. People saw their friends at night all the time. Right? Unfortunately, this logic killed his voice. It didn't require an explanation. She ought to have known that. Friends see each other. That's what made them friends.

His wife, seeing how her words paralyzed him in that strange way, continued. "You've been seeing him a lot, haven't you? You see him every day... and then you sneak out of your own house to see him some more."

Why did that feel like an accusation? Because he knew they weren't just hanging out? Because... _she_ knew they weren't just hanging out? How would she know?! Then Cid spotted the answer, the horrid thing that planted such an idea in Shera's head: _101 Ways to Tell Your Man is Cheating_ lying on the coffee table. A good 200-300 pages. Hardcover. A picture of a man with a woman on the front. And another woman watching skeptically from the side. Cid felt his throat tighten and the sweat begin to emerge from the pores on his forehead. She had him cornered. In his own house. Like an ant about to be squished and whisked away with a broom.

Shera saw the caught expression on his face and gradually broke down. The closer she got to him, the farther apart their relationship tore. Tears dripped from her eyelashes. He wished she wouldn't stare at him. He wished she'd go away, or just go back to sleep. Anything but stare at him like that. Now he felt the shame. The guilt of the adulterer. Yet he still lacked the regret. Probably because... well, he was doing this for Vincent. And Vincent just may be worth his marriage. He knew he wouldn't go this far for Shera.

He may as well let it go now. Cid relaxed. He dropped the bag on the floor and hugged his wife for what he believed might be the last time. "Sorry. It wasn't because of you. I can't say I always loved ya, but I also can't say I never did. But ya caught me. It's gonna be alright. Don't cry; I'll let ya stay here long as ya want." It provided little comfort and he knew it. Her sobs grew stronger and more desperate. When he walked away and picked his bag up again, she screamed.

"I can't believe you, Cid! All this time! With Vincent! With a _man_! What kind of Captain are you?! What kind of Captain walks away from his wife?! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU, CID?!"

But it was a long ways before Cid answered her. By that time, he was already back in Edge and she had cried herself to sleep. He stood outside of the Cosa Nostra base, staring up at the one window that remained lit. He smiled. "The kind that flies, honey. The kind that flies away... to his true home."

9

Someone, somewhere, pressed the pause button. Thick smoke hid Seeker from view; where it came from or how it had been created was anyone's guess. To Yuffie, it looked like Seeker created it himself, sort of like how Vincent would be locked within a sphere of energy whenever he changed. Did that mean Seeker could change, too? That must have been the case, for rising over the gray fumes, she saw magnificent silver spikes—three of them—sitting atop an almost metallic skin. The silver-haired siblings stayed low to the ground, wary of the shift in advantage. Barret and Jim remained at a distance, their expressions stoic. Yuffie was the only one who didn't back away. She watched, still as a stone, until the smoke dispersed.

If not for the light reflecting off his platinum scales, she would have thought he was a ghost. The Seeker-Dragon barely fit within the height of the room. His width took up roughly a quarter. Yuffie still didn't move; the others moved farther back. Barret called to her once, but she found herself lost under the dragon's shadow, found it impossible to look away from his horned snout and protruding bottom fangs, or his green, pupil-less eyes. His wings, four times the length of his legs, were folded back at first. But when Yuffie dared to take one step closer, they unfurled with the speed of a cannon. The wind it created forced her back and made her eyes water. The Seeker-Dragon, his cheek marred by the shuriken's presence, bellowed his fury for the entire building to hear. His tail whipped around and struck Yuffie in the stomach, sending her to the wall. Barret began firing. Jim went to the ninja's aid. Meanwhile, Kadaj latched onto the beast's side and started climbing. Yazoo ran frantically about the dragon, searching for a weak point. Loz and Mack disappeared. Just as Kadaj was thrown to the floor and landed on his sister, Barret ran out of ammo, Yuffie woke up, and Loz and Mack returned, carrying several cords of long, thick, hairy rope. They tossed one end to Kadaj and Yazoo, who together attempted to climb the Seeker-Dragon a second time. As they wrapped the rope around his neck, the beast bucked and hit his head against the ceiling, getting his spikes stuck tight. He struggled, causing the siblings to lose their balance. Yazoo clung to the scales of his belly while Kadaj held onto her.

"Get to its eyes!" Mack screamed over the dragon's deep-throated complaints. "TAKE OUT ITS FUCKING EYES!" He and Loz had since retreated to the very back of room. Chunks of the ceiling fell around them.

"Let's get out of here," Jim said as he picked Yuffie off the floor. "Mission aborted."

"No, we can't!" the white rose of Wutai groaned. "We have to bring him back!" She jumped from Jim's arms, sending him backwards, and half-walked, half-crawled toward the dragon. Barret blocked her path.

"Don't be an idiot, Yuffie! We can't bring him back alive, not like this! And Vincent don't want no corpses stinkin' up his goddamn place!" But Yuffie crawled between his legs. She spotted something shiny near Loz's feet, but for whatever reason, Loz and Mack hadn't taken notice. They were busy holding onto the rope, trying to bring the dragon to a slouch. Yazoo made her way to the eyes, her brother following behind. She rummaged for her dagger. Yuffie dashed for the shining object. Loz, thinking she meant to harm him, let go of the rope and tackled her. Mack fell forward as the dragon overcame their effort. By that time, Yazoo had found her dagger. However, the beast came free, his spikes proving stronger than the construction, and both Yazoo and her dagger became lost in the rubble beneath. Kadaj climbed over the dragon's shoulder, determined to do what his sister could not. Yuffie kicked Loz hard in the shin. He dropped her, which gave her the opportunity to throw the glowing turquoise materia at the dragon's head.

It hit him square on the temple. The dragon held still, wide-eyed and silent, as the glow grew brighter. There came a rumble, then a crash. The building fell on top of them. When the dust cleared, Kadaj, Loz, and Mack crawled from beneath the plaster. They saw little but sky and broken equipment. Yazoo couldn't be seen. And the Cosa Nostra group had made off with Seeker and the materia.

10

Shelke Rui didn't play a huge role in Cosa Nostra's expeditions. But she was useful for certain missions, and if she had the interest, she joined in. This evening it had been a matter of lacking—no one else of sufficient experience was available at this time to investigate the warehouses, a trip previously interrupted by murderous rivals. The fact that those people personally came to dispose of the investigators proved that something of great importance was hidden here, and Vincent be damned if he wasn't going to find it. So as Shelke preferred to go unseen and felt it would be easier to take out any opposition while the city slept, she set out at dusk and waited until not a soul could be detected within the area.

Yet there _was_ something.

Intuition told her to venture cautiously. Whether it be the secret in the warehouses or a watchful nighttime guard, she moved slowly and carefully between the buildings, pausing every few seconds to listen. It was this way that she snuck behind a guard and zapped him to unconsciousness. Normally she would have simply killed the man, but that was the way of Deepground, and Vincent advised her not to stoop as low as their enemies. She saw the sense that regression would only do her more harm than good, but at the same time she didn't see how this method of doing things did them any good at all. Perhaps she'd been brainwashed more than she realized. Or maybe there was a flaw in Vincent's procedure. Either way, the guard wasn't a problem now. She started for the door.

Out of nowhere, something hit her in the back, slamming her against the entrance to the warehouse. She stood there, paralyzed, until she noticed the warm, wet sensation of blood dripping down her back. She turned to see nothing but red. And then black.

11

Rosso licked the blade clean, finding the mixture of copper and mako... enticing. She didn't expect to discover _this_ one, of all of them, here, but fate had a way of entwining people together—from their first meeting to their death. The Transparent wasn't dead yet, though if the bleeding didn't stop she might be soon. However, that wasn't the idea. Her death would come soon, but not until the torture passed. That's what the fat man told Rosso, anyway.

She held the syringe toward the moon, gazing at the violet liquid for a long time before injecting it into Shelke's neck. She didn't know exactly what it was supposed to do, had never heard of the disease before, but apparently it was worth study. What a better subject than one who's already been in several studies? This would be nothing new to Shelke. But for Rosso, it would spark a new breed of entertainment.

Leaving the body in front of the warehouse, the Crimson retracted her weapon and slithered away. It would be up to the Turks to decide what to do with her next.


	5. The Date and Dark Arts

**Pyro's Notes: **Wow. This is late. Not because it wasn't finished or edited, or even because other chapters weren't finished. It's because... I forgot. Yeah, slap me with a bag of money (coins, they'd hurt more) and leave me in the street. I forgot, okay? But today I remembered. So y'all should know that this is an introduction to Lucita's past and all that. These "original" elements add to the plot. We're trying hard not to ruin the franchise in its entirety, though I guess we're doing a great job at it (destruction, that is). This is also a very long chapter. And I'm afraid they don't get much shorter later on. Hope you like length. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Failure to Own. Error. Please press back to return to Square.

**Tainted Blood**

_Chapter Five: The Date and Dark Arts  
_

One would think that she would be ready for things like this. I mean, come on! Going on a date with the LEGENDARY Cloud Strife should be easy for a Turk-trained woman from Goldero, a city known for their secrecy, ability to blend into high society, dark martial arts that put Tifa's to shame, and cruel methods of torture that only Death knew about. This should be a piece of cake.

Unfortunately, she had only been on two dates before. One with her sweetheart about a half-hour before her city got leveled by her former employers, and one with Tseng and that didn't end well because he was Wutanese and considering Wutai's contempt for Goldero… You know where this is going.

'Are you sure you won't try that blue dress? I think it looks nice on you.' Sephiroth was trying to help, but the dress in question wasn't really wearable. And we all know what Sephiroth's sense of fashion is like. It looked Wutanese, but the entire dress was royal blue with amethyst writing on the hems of the sleeves and the sash around the waist was brilliant emerald with silver markings covering it.

"No. I can't wear that and you know why. Those of Wutai decent would make it their top priority to try and kill me if not maim me for life. And besides, that dress denotes an apprentice to a master of the Yujitsu, Yojimbo's arts of the Dark Hand. I never got past that level…" She shook her head of the depressing thoughts and sighed, trying on the other dresses that literally covered every inch of the bedroom in her eighth floor condo apartment. Cloud would be showing up any minute and she still hadn't decided on what dress to wear.

She was hopeless.

In a last ditch effort, she decided to try on a lilac purple dress that had spaghetti straps and ended mid thigh. It was a bit of a tight fit, but she smiled when she looked in the mirror. The dress was perfect, accenting her shape and all. Now, to accessorize…

Her silver hair band became her bracelet as she put on a diamond studded gold linked necklace and matching dangling earrings. A little red lipstick, a touch of rouge, and a pair of stilettos finished the outfit, then she grabbed her cell to text Maverick, letting him know what she was up to and to inform him that he was in charge until she came back.

"Okay. Now… what do I do?" No sooner than the words hit the air did a knock sound. She walked over and opened it, revealing Cloud in something formal.

He wore black dress slacks that complimented his physique, a modest black belt to hold the pants up that settled nicely on his hips, shiny shoes that could blind her if she looked right, a white shirt with a few buttons missing from the top like he had been fidgeting with them (which also revealed a nice view while leaving much to the imagination), a black jacket, and a nice classical watch. The only thing that came from his other uniform was the wolf earring in his left ear. If she didn't have very good control over her reactions, she would be having a nosebleed right now.

(Like the rest of the readers and the dragony authoress.)

"Hello," was all he was able to say, wondering if this was the same woman he met in the pharmacy. She smiled and picked her purse up to put her cell away, equally wondering why women didn't maul each other to get close to him. He stood back to let her shut and lock her door, admiring her form and the dress that covered it up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, wondering if this Seventh Heaven was a fancy restaurant.

"We're going to a nice restaurant. I don't think Seventh Heaven is… hospitable at the moment. Old rivalry might ruin the whole thing. I was thinking more of Le Coin Royale." Lucana nodded and let Cloud escort her into the elevator and out the lobby. Though she was completely bored to tears with limousines, she didn't expect this huge, really sweet motorcycle in front of the lobby doors

"Yours?" She was incredulous. She only heard her soldiers speak of it in awe, respect and in idol-worshiping tones. Now she was going to be treated to riding on the mythical bike. Oh, she was in motorcycle heaven. All her bikes in the garage paled in comparison to Cloud's Fenrir.

"Yeah. No one would let me borrow their car because they thought I might wreck it, so I thought Fenrir might work." She smiled. Cloud took that as a good sign and smiled himself. Mentally, "Lucana Bevellon" was trying to pinpoint which bike model it was.

"Is it a custom? I don't remember any new models coming out." He nodded, wondering how she would know that. "Surprised? Well, truth be told, I'm a bit of a motorcycle buff. I love the speed and the dexterity that a motorcycle gives that cars can't. Plus it is easier to find a parking space for a bike than a car in the industrial part of Edge." Since the blond was listening to her speak, he thought her accent was familiar. Then it hit him like a bar to the side of his face… like the one that just hit him on the side of his face.

"Are you okay?" He nodded, smiling sheepishly at her concerned look. She looked at him curiously as he rubbed his jaw a moment and then waved his finger, still standing the entire time.

"I thought I knew that accent from somewhere. That's Wutanese. You from Wutai?" She was shocked and she could only shake her head. At his confused look, she regained her voice and told him a lie.

"My mother was Wutanese. My father was a Corelian and an expert coal miner. He worked a lot in the mines, so I didn't get to see him much. Thus I sound more like my mother." He nodded, accepting the lie, and he got on Fenrir, helping her on the best he could before handing her a helmet. She smiled as she put it on and after he put his protective eyewear on, Cloud brought the beast to life. The rumbling engine made Lucita desire to have one for herself.

After the bike roared to life, he pulled on the throttle and both were suddenly flying down the road, the streetlights became streaks and cars simply moved too slow for them. What would have been a half hour trip took only ten minutes to reach the restaurant.

He pulled up into a parking space and let "Lucana" get off first. She took the helmet off and grinned brightly as Cloud took his eyewear off and put it in a safe spot.

"Did you do the customizing or did you have help? It's truly a marvelous motorcycle." Cloud beamed in pride. And the greatest part, was that he mostly did the work with Denzel handing him the tools that he needed.

"I did most of the work, but I got help now and then. So, Lucana, shall we?" He held his arm out and she gratefully accepted. Both walked in and a waiter escorted them to an empty table. Cloud Strife was raised with manners so that, if he died tomorrow, his mom won't put him over her knee and spank him for being rude to a lady. His manners also made many women glare at their dates/husbands/boyfriends.

Those guys were sleeping on the sofa.

"What would you like to drink? Wine, champagne, Coca cola?" asked the waiter as he handed the two some flimsy menus. Lucita ordered a red wine and Cloud asked for a dry white wine. The waiter nodded and walked away and Lucita smiled.

"So, what do you do for a living?" To start a conversation, Lucita asked the first thing on her mind. Mostly due to the fact that she left her wallet at home and she hoped she didn't have to tab it. That would ruin a first date real quick.

Cloud shrugged, as though his occupation wasn't important.

"I run 'Strife Deliveries: We deliver anything'. And I do most of it myself. But I help out my friend, Vincent, on the side." This caught her attention, but she didn't make any outward signs of it. So, Cloud was in Cosa Nostra and Vincent Valentine was his friend. How does an antisocial man like Vincent become friends with Cloud Strife? And did he fund Cloud's mechanical ecstasy that was named Fenrir?

"Really? What does Vincent do?" Cloud looked like he didn't want to say, but she could already guess. The only thing making her act like she didn't was that A) she wanted all information on the group as possible, and B) she didn't want to blow her cover. The latter would suck majorly.

"Well, he... helps people. Started a business dedicated to solving people's problems. But there are lot of people who, for whatever crazy reason, are against him. Can't say much more than that. If you knew, some of those people might come after you." Oh, that was so sweet… if he only knew.

"He sounds like a great man." Just as she was about to ask another question, the waiter arrived with their drinks and both gave him their orders. As the waiter took the menus and walked off to ready their orders, Cloud decided he would ask her a question.

"So, what about you? Your place looks pretty sweet, so I'm guessing it's something that pays well." She thought a moment, wondering how best to tell him just what he needed to know without him being the wiser. Couldn't do to give him only a little, only for him to become a pest later because he wanted more information about her.

"I work in the Lynx Corporation. They specialize in medical technologies and they also sponsor many charities for orphanages everywhere you can think of." He nodded in agreement.

"Yeah? I think I've heard of them. You must have saved a lot of lives by now." Though Lynx was a new group that literally came out of nowhere, they were leading authorities in the medical technologies that were saving people's lives on a daily basis. But where they came from and who led them were mysteries that Cloud didn't like. And Vincent hated it even more.

"Yeah, but it gets to be rather depressing when people don't even use the things we make. Like in that pharmacy we met in. I found nothing of Lynx's to help me sleep." Cloud nodded and both talked casually, waiting for the damn food to arrive. Cloud did less talking of course, but Lucita still liked to hear his voice.

Soon the food arrived and both ate quietly, talking only if something random popped into their heads, but it was a pretty quiet dinner, overall.

After both finished eating, they talked until Cloud made mention of Vincent liking guns.

"Guns? Well… I have a gun if he would want it. I keep it at home for ornaments anyway. It's a real gun, I just don't have any real use for it." …That was when Lucita realized that she must sound like a stupid schoolgirl with a really big crush.

Ugh.

Cloud laughed. Lucana was pretty nice to offer.

"How convenient. He told me recently he was looking to increase his collection. Maybe we can arrange something." She smiled brightly, liking how he smiled and all. The Schoolgirl complex returned with great force, but she didn't let it show.

Hell no!

"So, how do I contact you if Vincent wants a new gun?" She gave him a sly look for teasing at Cloud. She thought she would never actually… care about anyone but her three kids… but Cloud…

"Call me. How else?" As though the gesture were as simple as a handshake upon meeting, Cloud handed her a business card.

"'Strife Deliveries,' remember? Just call and we deliver. Personally." She took the card and smiled, tucking it away in her purse for later retrieval.

"Thank you." Both stood up, and slowly walked to the counter, talking about what the gun was like and all.

"The gun itself is called Exeter. Rumored to hit any target, no matter what or how far." Cloud looked impressed as she described it.

Cloud paid for the entire meal, and they were out of the building when a cell phone went off. Both looked and got their phones, but only one was ringing like a freakin' lunatic.

"Cloud." Lucita put her phone away and looked curiously as his eyes got dark.

"Sure. I'll be there as fast as I can. I'm taking Lucana home… Vincent, she's my date, remember? …Sure." He closed his phone and sighed.

"Work?" she asked, trying to think if this had anything to do with the Sephiroth-lookalike mission. He nodded and he lead the way to his bike. Both got their apparel on and both were gone.

It took only ten minutes to her place and both bid each other goodbye and good luck, with Cloud leaving and Lucita sighing at such a loss. But she didn't give herself time to think on it. She walked to the elevator and punched her number, calling Maverick to see what the hell was going on.

The elevator doors opened and she walked to her apartment, demanding to know what was going on with the mission.

"They didn't report?" That didn't bode well. They always reported on time… She went into her office to get her sword and armor, practically ripping the dress and stuff off.

"I want a unit of scouts to find them. Now. The mission is aborted." She shut the phone forcefully and put it down. What a way to end a date… She walked out of her apartment and went to her garage in the basement level. After choosing a brilliant red Honda with silver markings, she got on and drove it out, hitting the streets at a breakneck speed.

She was upset.

--

Yazoo really didn't remember how she got there, but she did have a nice-sized goose egg on her head, behind her painfully twitching left cat ear. Looking around, she only wondered what her Mother was going to do to her when she found out that they failed the mission.

Now that she thought about that, it was better not to think about it.

She looked up and around, checking herself to see if she wasn't too injured. Nope, just a few cuts, a major bruise on her left shoulder blade and a nasty sprain in her ankle. Her cat ears picked up the sounds of some small rocks still falling nearby and water pouring slowly over a ledge.

She looked around some more and came to the conclusion that she was in the sewers. But there was no foul smell, so where in her nine lives was she? Not the sewer, not in the basement, not even in a known cave… Cave?

Yazoo looked around and spotted the stalactites and stalagmites that littered the area. And the water she heard was flowing over and around the most vibrantly shining stones the young woman had ever seen. Upon closer examination, she discovered that it was materia.

And rare materia at best. She took as many as she could, hoping that this might gain her mother's approval back. After filling her almost impossibly deep pockets with as many as she could, she found one that could cast healing magic.

"Well, never hurts to try," said Yazoo and she cast the spell inside the orb. The magic seeped out of the sphere and covered her, making every inch of her body glow in a warm and vibrant light. After the light faded away back to the dim lights of the cavern, she gasped.

The magic complete healed her and revitalized her mana too.

"I'll call you Renew. Fitting since you renewed everything on and about me." She smiled and put the materia into her bracelet slot. She began to dig around to get her gunblade. After moving some large rocks, she picked her weapon from the water and shook it off, eyeing the fluid in disgust.

After retrieving her weapon, she started heading where the water's source would hopefully lead her out. The place was littered with materia in its infant stage, ready to be mastered by those with need of their power. When she got back to base, she was definitely telling her mother about this place. And to think that Umbra didn't even know about this goldmine of treasure.

She continued walking until she heard a roar ahead of her. Thinking it might be that creature posing as her sibling, she stalked forward, weapon drawn and making sure her materia was equipped and ready for action.

She proceeded around the corner and gasped.

-- --

Reno and Rude were sent to look around these warehouses that had Vincent's attention as of late. Hoping to steal a guard and interrogate him or her for information, both were surprised to see a tasered guard and Shelke, the wonder kiddy.

"Yo, Rude. What do you make of this?" The bald man walked over and put his hand on Shelke's throat, feeling a steady pulse. He shrugged and started to clean her wounds and such, making sure they wouldn't become infected or anything. Pffft.

"Now why did you go and do that? Our job is to look into these places and see what Lynx has in them, not help little girls in need." Rude shrugged again at his friend with an indifferent air and picked the girl up, wondering if she even knew what food was since she was so light.

"Rude, what the hell you think you're doing? You can't leave in the middle of a mission!" Reno was getting really pissed with his pal. And his next paycheck was hanging in the balance with this mission, too.

"We leave her behind, Vincent may take it out on the boss. I don't know about you, but I seen what he can do when motivated. And this is Vincent's friend. You make your choice." The redhead hmphed and let his friend lead him to the HQ for CN.

"Eh, maybe Vincent and Cid would know, considering that Vincent has invested his time in figuring the opposition out," said Reno as both walked down the vacant streets. The dark held no surprises for the two Turks. Hell, those that were walking the streets for innocents to mug steered clear of the two.

"I love being a Turk," said the redhead as a group of three mugs crossed the street to avoid them. Rude smirked in response as Shelke started to stir. But before the two could stop to ask her anything, she fell back into the depths of slumber.

Both shrugged and continued walking. Vincent would know something.

-- --

If there was one thing he knew, it was that you had to fight for anything to make it yours. Food, clothes, even a place to sleep. He wasn't stupid and he didn't roll over for anyone, regardless of the fact that he was only eleven or twelve years old. He killed people to survive, and they would have done the same to him if he'd let them.

He long since learned that humans weren't a race to be trusted. That's what the Queen said, and he agreed when he saw them fight only a few years ago. Now, living on the human-infested streets, he agreed even more with his late mother. He would make the Council suffer for killing his mother. The Council was like the humans in that way. They craved the power the Queen had. But he was the real power. Not that they would know it yet. They would learn in due time.

Even if it was the last thing he'd do.

So, first thing's first. He needed a dry place to sleep since it was going to rain again soon. What was up with the wretched weather?! Raining more often than not. So, heading to an alley behind some stupid bar—Seventh Heaven was it?—he found a big enough cardboard box and next to it, a trash can. After rummaging around in it, he found some half eaten rolls and a piece of meat. Wasn't exactly filling, but it wouldl work. He quietly ate his meager meal, then he settled in his box and fell fast asleep, dreaming of the day he would rise to rule.

-- --

Yazoo walked up to the pedestal in the middle of this shrine-like clearing. On both sides of the alter were two stone pillars with candles on top. The writings on the stones were not Ancient or even remotely made by human hands. She shook her head and walked to the alter to find a book in the center of it, but it looked like it was rotted in some parts. Maybe if she was gentle…

She picked the manuscript up and with slow, painstaking movements, she rolled it up and put it in a steel tube that was given to her so that she could steal some documents if she found them before finding the human-creature. After putting it away, she looked around and found a stairwell.

She didn't hear that roaring noise again so she proceeded to walk up the stairs and into a smaller cave. Seeing this as her only chance, she continued to follow the pathway and hoped it led her to open air.

-- --

They laid together on the training hall floor, staring at the ceiling as the lights beamed down on them. A spider was in the process of building its web between the rafters. Cid had his hands behind his head; he made Vincent use the pillow ("Yer hair might get dirty." "Right, because you care so much."). By this time the shaking had long ended. However, there remained a touch of "aftermath pain" where the worst of it took place. His entire right side tingled and pricked, almost like it fell asleep on him. That's exactly what Cid had intended to do, but once he saw his friend in such pain, he decided otherwise.

"This really sucks, y'know," Cid remarked, watching the spider curl an unfortunate fly in sticky thread. "This fuckin'... disease an' all."

"Do you think it's arthritis, as the doctor said?"

"No. Nothin' like it. You're too... I dunno. You. 'Fact, I don't think I've ever seen you sick before. It's like all that shit they put in you keeps you healthy."

"Until now."

"Until now," Cid agreed, and rolled onto his side. "Looks t'me more like some kinda breakdown of the nervous system... But who'm I to know? I think I'd feel better if you got X-rays done or somethin'."

Vincent gave him a worried look. "More doctors? I'm sorry, Cid, but I can't do it."

"And why the hell not?"

The interrogated turned away without a word. For a while, the Captain didn't say anything either. Then Vincent asked him the one thing he dreaded: "It's late. Shouldn't you be home now?"

He should have anticipated this, but for whatever reason, it never occurred to him that Vincent actually cared about his marriage. More than he did, probably. The seconds passed with every tick of the clock above their heads as he struggled with an answer. "Uh... well, no. I thought I'd just stay here with you."

"But Shera..." That did it. Cid diverted his eyes to the floor, prompting Vincent to sit up, stern and accusing. "What happened, Cid? Why aren't you home with Shera?"

Cid sat up as well. He tried making eye contact, but found his lover's eyes punctured too deeply into his own. He always had this weird feeling that Vincent caught onto things long before they were told to him. No point in lies. Not that he could lie to Vincent anyway.

The man was too honest with everybody else to deserve lies from those to whom he gave the truth. "She knows. About why sometimes I stay so late. With you."

"Cid..."

"I know, I know! I should go back and apologize, but I can't, Vince! She's upset enough as it is! And I know I didn't really love 'er that way... It was just somethin' to do!"

"Marriage is 'just something to do'?" His face didn't say it, but his eyes gave it away, as they so often did; Vincent was nearly as upset with this development as Shera. No—worse, he was offended by it. Cid felt himself spiraling farther downward. Soon, no one he loved would love him back. Not even the prostitutes down at the CN brothel.

"You were gone so long..." Cid couldn't stand looking at the floor anymore. He raised his eyes to the spider web, unsurprised to discover the spider sucking the juices out of its captive already. "I thought you might never come back. An' I let 'er talk me into it. It was a stupid thing to do, okay? 'Specially since when you came back, I knew she wasn't the real one."

Vincent shook his head and sighed. "Cid, it's not what you did that bothers me. It's what you didn't do. You should have told her yourself if that was how you truly felt. Keeping love a secret is never a good idea."

"I know." Cid threw off his solemn gaze and replaced it with a weary smile. "So why don'tcha lemme tell you a few more times, huh?"

He forced Vincent back to the floor, pausing his reign of affection long enough to let the man breathe, and give one final warning:

"I should kill you for this."

-- --

Reno was looking around the office, admiring the gun collection and pointedly ignoring Cid as he made the rounds. They had walked in, interrupting their alone time, with Shelke and asking where to dump her ass. They didn't like it, but since this was Shelke they were talking about, the Turks were allowed to interrupt and put her in Vincent's office, regardless of any pain the dark clad man felt.

"You found her unconscious next to the warehouse. Was anyone there to see what happened?" asked Vincent as he looked Shelke over. Reno shook his head, picking a mug up and smirked. A pirate mug? The Turk didn't really see Vincent the Vampire as the corky type.

"Reno, I'd advise you to put that mug back before I become irate with you." Today wasn't Vincent's day. First he was almost insanely busy with paper work and helping Cid since Cloud had to go on that stupid date with that girl, then he went through a spastic fit, and Cid's marriage was in the toilet, along with being rudely interrupted by these two idiots. Now, to top it all off, Shelke was attacked and injected with something.

Well, she was still alive, so maybe it wasn't all bad. Plus, Cloud just walked in and starting to ask Reno why he was playing with Vincent's pens.

"I'm bored and I would like to play a game, yo. Like, why Lynx owns those warehouses, what's in them, and why are a lot of people interested in them? You know, the usual stuff." Cloud took the pen from Reno and pushed him off the desk.

"Exactly what would we get if we told you?" Cloud's eyes held a hard edge to them. His meetings with the Turks almost always involved him fighting Reno. Though Cid would say that maybe Reno had a thing for him and his "sword."

Reno smirked and got off the desk as Cloud pushed. Swinging his EMR on his wrist, he walked over to the three people in the corner and looked at Shelke, then at Vincent. Deciding to ask Vincent, since he was a fellow Turk, albeit a retired one, about something else on his mind.

"Ever heard of Lucita Shinagami?" Vincent looked up at the red head like he was an idiot, and to Vincent, he was. Rude sighed and decided to take over that conversation since he felt the same way at the moment.

"Lucita Shinagami was a Turk until seven years ago, when the late President asked her for a mission and she left, threatening to kill him if he ever asked her for anything like that again. We don't know what this mission was that caused her to leave." Vincent cocked an eye at the Turk and sighed, feeling thankful that the bald Turk didn't know about the late President's lecherous habits.

"No, I don't know of this Lucita Shinagami. I'm surprised the 'all powerful' Turks can't find a simple woman," muttered the Don as he got the young girl in a more comfortable position and tucked the spare pillow that Cid brought behind her head.

"There's nothing simple about this particular woman. What I read of the report, she was the sole survivor of the Golderian Massacre and was an active practitioner of the Yujitsu. She is quite known to being evil, unusually quick and a bit of a master of disguise," said Reno as he sat in one of the two guest chairs. The mention of something in this speech brought a twitch to Vincent's eye as the cocky Turk got comfortable in the chair.

"What did she look like?" asked Cloud as he continued to stare at Reno, making the redhead unnerved. Before anyone said anything else, Cid suddenly spoke, curious about Vincent's eye twitch.

"Yujitsu." There! That eye twitch again! So that was the word. But why would Vincent twitch at the mention of this Yujitsu? When Vincent and the others glared at Cid for the interruption, Cid shook his head and stood up.

"Vincent, exactly what do you know about the whole Golderian\Yujitsu bit?" The look in the man's eyes told them that he knew more than he was willing to say. Vincent stood up slowly, making his body used to the residual pain, and looked at the others.

"Enough to know that this Lucita Shinagami is a danger far worse than Shinra hopes to contain. Is there anything else you want to ask?" The guy wasn't going to make this easy. Heh, if it was, he would have to be really sick or dying…

"Well, I'll answer your question, Cloud. She left before I joined up in the Turks and the others can't really remember her since she practically hid all the damn time. The only ones that actually WOULD remember what she looked like would be either the late President or Sephiroth. And we all know they can't tell us a damn thing," said Reno as he got up, putting his rod to the side. Cloud merely shrugged and looked at Reno again, ready with his own answer.

"For the questions you asked, no, we don't know anything about the warehouses, but thank you for your help. Now we'll have to tell you not to tell anyone that Vincent's office is here." Reno looked like he was going to say something, but Vincent's glare and Cid's spear quietly convinced him to do just that, shut up and do as told.

Reno nodded and both Turks headed to the door. But before Reno went out, he stopped and looked at Cloud.

"Ya know, this feels weird that we didn't fight. Maybe next time." And he popped out of the door as Cloud threw a Bahamut paperweight after the retreating form.

Cid looked at Vincent as the ex-Turk went to his desk, glaring at Cloud until the blond went and got the (amazingly durable) paperweight again. As the two men sat across from the Don, Vincent spoke about his family.

"My mother was a Golderian. After she died, my only remaining relatives were my father and my uncle, who was a gifted practitioner of Yujitsu. He taught me all that he could during my stay in Goldero. I was seven when he first started to teach me. Father was a little against my learning, but my uncle convinced him otherwise.

"He taught me until I was sixteen years old. Then my father enrolled me into the Midgar Academy so that I wouldn't become an initiate. That was also when the Turks were looking for recruits in the school. He really never did forgive me for joining the Turks without his permission…" Cloud and Cid looked at each other and then back to Vincent.

"You're a Golderian? Damn, that explains why you can jump so high, don't it? You can kick anybody's ass. Should'a known," said Cid as he readjusted his cigarette. Vincent smirked in pride of his abilities, though fast diminishing they were.

"Yes. But I will tell you something now. If you do, somehow, come across Lucita Shinagami, do NOT attack her. She is a danger and must be met on neutral terms, in public. Goldero specialize in covert attacks and they operate on a different level of honor. She is NOT to be taken lightly." Both, understanding Vincent completely, nodded in agreement and were quiet until Cloud remembered what Lucana said.

"Oh, hey. Vincent, I know you're looking for more guns for your collection. Lucana said she has a gun called Exeter and is willing to sell." Vincent nodded with interest and waved his clawed hand, prompting Cloud to provide more details. The blond nodded and told Vincent what he was told about the weapon.

"Hit any target no matter how far? Hmmmm…any gun has a limit to its range, but it interests me. When can you bring it?" Cloud shrugged.

"I gave her my delivery card. I'll just have to wait for her to call." Vincent nodded and Cid smirked, knowing that Vincent was feeling better.

"Alright. Well, you must get some rest because there will be work for you in the morning. Goodnight." Cloud stood up and nodded his goodbye, leaving the two alone again.

"So, what do we do with Shelke?" asked Cid. Vincent turned to look at her on the corner sofa and sighed.

"We'll take turns watching her. We'll decide what is best in the morning." Both nodded and Vincent started his vigil.

"This'll be a looong night," said the Captain as he fell asleep.

-- --

Lucita was in her office, pacing back and forth in worry. She had been doing this all morning, so it was little wonder her two sons were in the office, ears low and tails swaying slowly, worried about their mother. They had been like this for three hours, waiting for any information about Yazoo. Kadaj and Loz looked at each other, thinking that maybe… they lost their beloved sister.

The woman stopped pacing long enough to look out the high rise window that showed the streets of Edge. She couldn't stop thinking about her missing child.

"Mother?" The middle sibling was braving his Mother's potential wrath when he spoke. She turned to face her son, worry and fear clouding her sight. "Mother, do you want our report? Yazoo would want us to finish what we had started…" Loz looked at his brother with an incredulous look. She didn't seem to hear what he said, but before he repeated himself, she nodded.

"Yes. Yes, please. This is business. We must go on." Kadaj nodded and stood up. Loz followed behind. Kadaj spoke in an official manner and didn't leave any detail out. Not even the part about the Seeker-Dragon being stunned by a materia ball. Lucita was impressed with her middle child.

"And that is it. I humbly apologize for failing the mission you gave us." She smiled and walked around her desk to hug her sons.

"It is alright. Maybe this will be the one thing that will bear great fruit from such loss. Now, I need you-" The phone rang and Lucita pounced on it, still worried about her girl. She listened to the commander on the other end and smiled in great relief a moment later.

"Bring her here ASAP. If what you say is true, we need to get to work. We can't let the opposition get to it first." The two males looked at each other in confusion as their Mother put the phone down.

"Yazoo has been found and she has some goods for us to examine. Kadaj, Loz. With Maverick, I am sending you to these coordinates to begin harvesting materia. While you're at it, I want Maverick to train you some more in the use of summoning materia." The two nodded and both started to head out the door when they heard their mother hit her head on the table. Both looked at her and sighed. She stayed up all night in worry for Yazoo. Now, she was paying for her hubris by falling instantly asleep.

"She needs it. I'll tell Darla to get her a blanket for her," said Loz, and the two walked in different directions to do as needed.

--- ---

Vincent's phone had an answering machine, but it was barely used since Cloud usually answered the phone before it kicked on. However, during the day when Vincent and everyone were away from the phones, Reeve called and left a message about a melted corpse in one of the brothels. And Vincent won't get that message until he actually gets the urge to play the machine.

And that, folks, is gonna be awhile.


	6. Grim Surprises

**Pyro's Notes:** This chapter is also late! Again, not because it wasn't finished or unedited, and even because I forgot this time, but because we had stopped writing later chapters! I'm the kind of person who likes to be ahead of the audience, so we've been holding back three chapters while waiting for the ninth to be finished. That one's still in the editing process. However, since it's in process, I thought it might be time to start updating again. I hope you like the twists in this chapter!

**Disclaimer:** Final Fantasy VII + (Pyro + Bahamut) = not owned. Characters (elements) + settings / Square Enix = owned. (I have no idea what those equations are supposed to be, but I have algebra on the brain, so just roll with it)

**Tainted Blood**

_Chapter Six: Grim Surprises  
_

1

Daylight penetrated the curtains, casting a blue glow within the office. But that wasn't what woke her. She sat upright in the middle of the couch, finding her body stiff and the pillow on which she slept reeking of cigarette smoke. To her right, Vincent Valentine dozed with his head on the desk, apparently too busy—or too worried—to go to bed. Cid Highwind snored in a chair across from her, a cigarette somehow managing to stay in his gaping mouth. Shelke turned her head toward the window, watching the shadows of rain droplets fall. How had she gotten here? The last she remembered

(_Rosso's face_)

was sunglasses. Rude's sunglasses. Had the Turks returned her to Cosa Nostra? They must have—for whatever reason, the office appeared disheveled, like some curious redhead messed with Vincent's stuff. And a couple of blondes got angry about it.

She placed her feet on the carpet and hoisted herself to a standing position... just to wobble and end up on her knees. There came a stinging in her neck, similar to the aftermath of a bee attack. When she inspected the area with her hand, she found a swelling bump that gave off a dull pain like a bruise. She didn't know if it was from the fall or if that witch

(_her crimson hair framed her face like a hood_)

stuck her with something. Why didn't the Crimson kill her while she had the chance?

No matter; her weakness proved how close to humanity she'd returned. Her hesitation was a result of renewed compassion. If Deepground hadn't taken her...

Cid coughed in his sleep. His cigarette, burned to the stub, fell from his lips and landed on the carpet. Ash crumbled off the tip. While she didn't care about the cleanliness of the room, she detested the pilot's carelessness. Shelke squished the butt with her palm and tossed it in the trash. Vincent ought to have an ashtray. So he didn't have an excuse not to pick one up, she wrote a memo on a pad of sticky notes lying on the desk, ripped the top square off, and pressed it to Cid's forehead. As a Deepground soldier, this wasn't the type of mischief she'd been instructed to do. Nor was it the kind of thing her sister would let her get away with. In fact, it was Lucrecia's idea. Long after her demise, she still had her ways of teasing Vincent. She thought it amusing to raise his irritation levels bit by bit. Shelke, on the other hand, thought it tragic that he didn't realize her simple, harmless mischief was in fact messages from his long-gone past. And this return to humanity erased the cold honesty within her heart necessary to tell him.

Rain at its end, daybreak growing brighter, and people emerging onto the streets to go to work, Shelke left the office unnoticed, her message delivered and the mysteries springing to life.

2

Two days later, Cloud Strife received a call. He'd been making repairs on his bike after a mishap with Barret on the way to WRO HQ. The big guy just about killed the engine by running over it in the Shadowfox. Labor had been nonstop since.

He wiped the grease from his fingers and his phone still managed to slip. "Strife—" He caught it between his legs before it crashed on the concrete of the garage. "Strife Deliveries. How can I help you?"

A familiar voice laughed on the other end. "I have a proposition for you, Cloud."

His mood brightened. "Lucana! I almost forgot! Sorry!"

"Quite alright." She sounded almost as happy to talk to him as he was to hear her. "I just had the Exeter appraised."

"Exeter?"

"The gun I told you about. The one you said your friend Vincent might be interested in buying from me."

"Oh, yeah. When I told him, he said he wanted to see if the rumors about it were true. He seemed pretty intrigued. How much do you want for it?"

There was a pause, as though she were reconsidering the sum. "You know a gun like this isn't easy to come by. It's unique. Men all around would die for it. And its power is said to be incredible..."

"I know. _He_ knows. He's willing to give as much as you ask for it."

"Is that so?" The calmness in her voice made Cloud's stomach tighten. And at the same time it was oh-so-sexy. She played him well. "In that case... I require two million gil for it."

Cloud processed the number in his head, going over the revenue that just came in from the whorehouses, not questioning once why she'd need that much for a gun. "Two mil? Is that all?"

"Mm-hm. That should cover it."

"Okay, no problem. I'll have Vincent write a check for you, then I should be there in about ten-to-fifteen minutes. That work for you?"

"That's fine. I'll be waiting. See you soon, Cloud."

"See ya—Oh, wait! Lucana?"

"Yes?"

His chest felt like a string detached from his heart and began playing the drum on the muscle. Another choked his vocal cords. "Uh... never mind. I'll ask you when I get there."

"Alright, Cloud." She sounded disappointed. "Goodbye."

"Bye." But she wouldn't be disappointed for long.

3

Seeker found himself living comfortably in Cosa Nostra. He wasn't chained. He didn't think he was drugged. He got to eat good food regularly. And he got to roam around, so long as he stayed on the first floor. The guards played cards with him. They told jokes and swapped stories of stupid things they'd done in the past. Seeker found it amusing, but he didn't take part in it. No one pressured him. They let him keep his distance. However, as the days flew by, he wondered how long it would last. No one had been in to question him. No blood had been drawn. It appeared that the big cheese of this place didn't give a shit if he was some Sepher-whatever or not.

So he played along. He lounged on the cushy bed that had been arranged just for him, reading a large volume from the shelf and snacking on grapes. On the table beside him was a tray of apples, soup, crackers, and tea. It was peaceful. Luxurious. Until a fist met the door with an alarming knock.

"Ironic," Seeker remarked in response, "that I'm supposed to be a captive, yet my captors ask before barging in to interrogate me."

The door opened and foot soldier Doug Etheridge stepped in, grinning sheepishly. "I guess it is kinda ridiculous when you put it that way. The Don told us to treat you like a guest."

Seeker huffed. He marked his place with a decorative metal bookmark and laid the book on the table. "But I'm not a guest, am I? I was taken by force, from one prison to another. Why act like it's not the truth?"

Doug shrugged and pulled a chair up to the bed. He sat on it with his legs wide open, the way gangsters sit on a curb. "I don't know. Respect, I guess. You'd have to ask the Don yourself. He explained it to us like... 'Voluntary trade will reap benefits on both sides.' My guess is he'd rather have you cooperate by will than by threat."

"Because treating me well will make me want to bend over and suck his cock? Please."

The soldier laughed and shook his head. "Nah, he's already got somebody to do that. But _I_ think keeping food in your belly will make you more likely to answer the questions I have for you."

The were-dragon sighed and sipped his tea. "If you must."

Doug pulled a clipboard and a pen from the pack he brought with him. "Okay, to start off, what's your full name?"

"Seeker Giovanni of the Silver Were-Dragon Court, Apprentice of the Shango Trade Guild-Mastery, and nephew to Bernard Giovanni the 23rd, owner of the SilverPath Engineering Corps."

"Were-Dragon Court? That explains the report then..."

"Report on what?"

"Yeah... uh, I'm asking the questions here. How old are you?"

"On my home planet, I am considered to be seventeen years old. But if I were to measure in the short spans your culture uses, by my calculations I would be more like 203."

"That's interesting. Would you consider yourself as male?"

"What kind of question is _that_?! Of course I'm male! Haven't you been watching me at all?!"

"Just checking." Doug scribbled the information. "You claim to be from another planet. Have you ever heard of Jenova?"

"No. What is it?"

"Irrelevant. What about Sephiroth?"

"_No_! Now will someone finally tell me who that is? Everyone thinks I'm him! Or it! Or whatever!"

"You look a lot alike. But really, you've never heard of him until you came here? Not even the remnants that chased after you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Huh. Okay. Well, what does 'Mother' mean to you?"

"'Mother'? I... I don't know! Someone who nurtures?"

"Can you use materia?"

"What is it?"

"Do you know about the Reunion?"

"No, I—"

"'One-Winged Angel.'"

"What?!" Growing more infuriated with every question, he knocked the tray to the floor as he stood up to confront the soldier. Soup absorbed into the rug, creating a large, dark, wet spot. "What does that even _mean_? How can it fly with only one wing?!"

"I see." Doug finished jotting his notes and stood as well. Their eyes met, the interrogator's perfectly cool, the interrogated's blazing. "It sounds like you really aren't connected, but we have to do more tests to be sure. Yuffie's account of your transformation at the Umbra Company convinced us that you could be either extremely dangerous or extremely useful. So... I'll get someone to clean this up. Your physical examination will be after dinner. It's the only time the Don's available, and he wanted to see for himself."

"See _what_?!"

But Doug already had his hand on the door knob. "I'm just as clueless as you are," he said, and left.

Seeker sat on the edge of the bed, angry and confused. Why did he have such horrid luck? Why did he have to be born this handsome?! He turned to the window, envious of the pigeons who made their nest across the street. In his madness, what had happened to those other people, the silver-haired siblings? What had become of his friend Mack? And where in Hell did this Sephiroth hide so he could smack him a good one in the face?

4

Lucita waited on the porch steps, holding a miniature suitcase. She checked her watch. Yazoo had been retrieved and rested in her bedroom. Her brothers played pool with Maverick as they awaited further instructions. And Cloud was... right on time. He pushed his glasses atop his head and gave her a smile as bright as sunshine.

"Am I late?"

"Punctual."

She walked over to the bike, watching as Cloud's attention faltered to the sway of her hips... and then the case she carried. He looked up to inquire. "That the gun?"

She nodded and unlatched the case to let him see for himself. "Exeter. The one firearm to rule them all."

The look on Cloud's face was perfect. She closed the case. "I've shown you my end of the deal. Now let me see yours."

Cloud reached into his pocket and produced the check. He showed her the front: Two million gil. Signed Vincent Valentine. Then he flipped it over and showed her the back: Pay to the Order of Lucana Bevellon. Lucita smiled. "Perfect." She offered Cloud the case. He handed her the check. "But what happens if your friend isn't satisfied?"

The spiked blonde shrugged. "He doesn't care. In fact, he said he's probably paying more for you to date me than for the gun."

The Golderian laughed as she pocketed the key to Cosa Nostra's vault. "Who knows? I've had that thing for so long, I'm not even sure if it works properly. But when I had it cleaned, they said it was in mint condition."

"It looks nice, if nothing else," Cloud said. "He's a collector, so I guess it doesn't matter."

"Yeah." Lucita had a slightly saddened look about her, despite the smile gracing her face. And Cloud's eyes. "Thank you. I... suppose I'll see you later, Cloud."

"Yeah." He secured the case behind him and started to turn the ignition, then stopped, as though just remembering something. "Oh, wait... Heh. I guess I said that before." Lucita watched him attentively without comment. "Uh... would you like to stop by the Seventh Heaven later and meet my friends? Vincent can tell you about the gun himself."

"I'd love to," she replied. "What time?"

"Eight o' clock sound alright?"

"That's fine. I'll see you soon, then."

"Yeah. Take care, Lucana." But just as Cloud revved the engine, his cell phone went off. It seemed to be starting a tradition at the end of his meetings with her. Curiosity glued Lucita to her spot. "Strife Deliveries. We deliver an—What? Shelke?!"

5

"I'll explain later. Get to the hospital as soon as possible." Vincent ended the call. He was about to flip his phone shut when a message appeared on the screen. It annoyed him, how often Reeve vied for texting over voice communication, but in this case the shorthand words on the screen provided a touch of comfort: Reeve would be over shortly with a group of specialized WRO doctors and scientists. Don't worry. Smiley face.

Cid stepped out of the emergency care unit looking glum. Vincent didn't startle at the sight him; that was his standard expression since receiving the divorce papers from Shera. The only way to measure his gloominess was through conversation, which he initiated on his own. "The doctors are completely puzzled. Nobody seems to know what's wrong with 'er."

"Has the bleeding stopped, in any case?"

Cid nodded. He stared at Vincent's shoes, his reflection golden. "The bleedin' stopped, but she's still havin' periodic spasms... Sorta the same way you are." He regarded Vincent curiously, but said nothing more.

Vincent watched the door. "We could be infected with the same... affliction." As usual, their thoughts were on the same track. "I don't think—whatever it is—that I passed it onto her, though. I haven't been in contact with anyone but you since it started. As far as I can remember."

"How come I ain't got it?" Cid asked. Vincent jumped when the doors opened, but it was only a nurse pushing a cart of medical supplies.

"Maybe you're immune," he said, settling. "Or maybe it can't be passed on through contact. Maybe... the cause lurks somewhere... And Shelke and I touched it." Finally, Cloud arrived. Vincent turned to Cid, speaking steadily, but a gleam in his eyes betrayed his concerns. "I want the base thoroughly cleaned and sterilized to prevent further outbreak."

"Gotcha." Cid headed for the pay phones. Cloud waited until he was gone, then confronted Vincent. He brought the suitcase Lucita gave him for safety measures; now wasn't the time to show off a fancy gun. "What happened? Is Shelke alright?"

"If she was alright, we wouldn't be here."

Cloud bowed his head, disliking his friend's cold manner. "Right. Stupid question. Sorry. What I meant is, is there any way I can help?"

Vincent shook his head. "Not at the moment."

"So what's wrong with her?"

The answer didn't come immediately. Vincent stared out the window. Apparently parking lots and cloudy skies enthused him more than human conversation. Cloud took the opportunity to seat himself in one of the hospital's cushy green chairs. He waited and watched without a word, but the expectant storyteller remained still and silent. The room was empty save for a secretary typing rapidly in her container of organized health insurance policies and a security guard standing by the elevator, stoic expression plastered to his face for eternity. Then there were Cloud and Vincent. The former grew impatient, but clamped his mouth shut. The latter began to speak lowly. His voice was rough.

"I sent Shelke to the warehouses a few nights ago."

"Where the brothers were killed?"

Vincent chose not to answer nor to acknowledge the question. "The Turks, Reno and Rude, returned her in the early hours of the next morning."

"Yeah, I know. I was there."

"She was unconscious. Cid and I took turns keeping watch, until at some point, both of us fell asleep. When I awoke, she was gone." He pried his attention off the window to look at Cloud, who said nothing in return. "I searched and found her in the library, researching virus infections. When I asked why, she said she worried about me. Unusual for Shelke to be forward like that. But I didn't press her. Instead, I tried to help. After awhile, it became difficult to turn the pages, so I went to check on Cid, and told Shelke to go downstairs and eat. I don't know if she did. Just as you left today, Shelke called for me. Cid came with me—"

"He follows you everywhere now."

"He's depressed, what do you expect?" When Cloud did nothing but shrug, Vincent resumed. "Once we arrived, Shelke was in the midst of a seizure. Blood came out of her nose and dripped down her face like tears... Cid got towels. She was unable to control herself, it seemed, but she kept trying to speak... I couldn't make out anything. Her skin began expanding. Her clothes ripped in some places. It looked like her blood was literally boiling. Bubbles appeared on her face. When we got her outside, they started to burst... her teeth chattered so hard I feared she'd break her own jaw."

Cloud grimaced, praying the images in his head were exaggeration compared to what actually happened. "Maybe... it was some reaction. Lack of mako?"

Vincent shook his head. "I've ensured daily treatment."

Cloud sounded disheartened. "Her body might want to change and the mako isn't allowing it."

"Why would it start reacting now?"

"I don't know." Cloud turned his head as Cid made his way back. "Prolonged suppression would be my guess."

Vincent had no response to that. He stared at his right hand, the one that had bothered him for the past week or so. Dread set into his abdomen as he imagined the skin beneath the glove bubbling like Shelke's face had.

That better have been his imagination, anyway.

He turned to Cloud and Cid, who shared concerned glances. "I'm stepping out for a few minutes. Call me if anything develops."

6

He didn't mind walking in the rain. By now it had settled to a drizzle anyway. Hardly anything to complain about. The air refreshed him, welcomed him into the outside world with cooling, soothing hands. He did not stop to embrace it, but he thanked it for its kindness. For whatever reason, he felt compelled to head in a certain direction. It took him a while to realize that this direction led to Seventh Heaven, where Tifa would be preparing for happy hour. Normally, such circumstance would feel unnatural; he didn't particularly like Tifa, and now wasn't the time for drinking. If he'd wanted to tell her about Shelke, it would be easier to just call her than to visit her bar. Yet this path felt... more than familiar. Welcome.

Whatever the reason (as aforementioned), it provided him the time necessary to sort his thoughts. As he neared the Seventh Heaven, he considered going inside, seeing who was there. A bit of light-hearted chat wouldn't hurt. Too much. But the closer he got, the more apprehension came to him. Some dread of... running into somebody. He passed the bar without thinking. Before he reached the next building, he turned back.

Rustling forced him to stop. He stood at the opening of the alleyway, thinking Seventh Heaven's sign rather obnoxious. That wasn't where he'd meant to go all along; he'd been drawn instead toward the back lot. That's where the sounds came from.

Vincent drew his gun, held it high, and stayed close to the wall as he turned the corner. The green dumpster needed emptying; it reached the point where trash littered the entire lot, and the stink rose too high and thick for sufficient breathing. Cardboard boxes laid scattered and damp. Broken. At least half the reek originated from them. Venturing the rest of the way into the lot, he found several bags had been ripped and pilfered. Rotted meat and leftover starches mixed with rain water and throwaway plates to create a goo that sank into the tar, leaving a permanent stain.

Movement caught his eye.

He expected nothing bigger than a raccoon or a dog. Nothing more threatening than a feral tom. Each step took him closer to the dumpster. Behind there, a cardboard box had collapsed, the moisture too heavy for its fibers. He directed the three barrels of his gun to the source of movement. Startled by the click of the safety unlocking, the creature fell out of the box onto its back, staring at Vincent with big, frightened red eyes.

A child.

7

"Mother!" Yazoo sounded frantic, excited, and frightened at the same time. Lucita, with the intuition every mother had, assumed she was happy to be home, had a bad dream, and the experience that caused her temporary disappearance traumatized her. She wasn't far from wrong. Yazoo clung to her with the ferocity of a young, affectionate child.

"What is it, dear?" the Golderian inquired in the sweet, understanding tone of a woman who had never hurt anyone in her life. How wrong that was. "Tell me what troubles you."

"Mother, I fell into a cavern!" Yazoo explained. She backed away. "The people at Umbra don't seem to know about it! I found all kinds of strange materia!" She pulled out the one she dubbed Renew. Lucita's face glowed in its light. And excitement.

"Materia?"

"TONS of it!" After handing the orb to her mother, she pulled out something else. "And this thing. This strange book."

Lucita put the materia aside to examine its cover. "'The Book of Taint.' Why would this be in a cavern?" Instead of responding, Yazoo looked on in awe as her mother scanned the pages. Slowly, a smile formed on the assassin's lips. "'Taint,' hm? A power to transform a being into something hideous. Darken its blood and its heart in one go." She placed the book down and hugged the kitten-child, rubbing gently behind the silver-furred ears. "You've always been a blessing, Yazoo. This will help us tremendously." Yazoo beamed. Lucita pressed a button on the intercom. "Maverick, I have a job for you."

"What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"Gather the boys. You're going on a trip."

8

"Can you stand?"

The boy nodded, trying hard to hide his fear. Vincent holstered the gun and waited for the boy to straighten himself. He stood at about Denzel's height, if not a few inches shorter. Long, ratted black hair covered his skull and bony shoulders, fell into his eyes, which were an alarmingly bright red. Almost to the point of mako glow. He wore a torn gray t-shirt three sizes too big for him, and bulky black cargo shorts that threatened to fall down to his bare feet any second. The state of his stature—frail and skeletal, unhealthy for anyone—suggested he'd gone hungry for a long time.

The gunman regarded him for a few moments in rather companionable silence before asking, "Where are your parents?"

"Dead." His voice sounded rugged and out of use. Maybe dehydrated. His throat might be sore.

"Want to come with me?" It was the same as a pedophile would ask, but at least he gave the kid a choice. And the kid wasn't an idiot. He questioned right back.

"Where?"

"Inside." Vincent indicated the Seventh Heaven with a claw.

"I'm not old enough to drink." The boy maintained a firm stance, eyeing this man with the same suspicion police programs encouraged children to have.

"That's alright. I know the owner. She'll give you something to eat."

The boy took a moment to consider this. Obviously, the prospect of going into a public place where there would probably be a phone and plenty of exits wasn't too terrifying. "Okay," he said at last. "As long as you pay for it."

"I will." Vincent turned and headed for the street. The boy followed him without hesitation.

They had lunch at the Seventh Heaven, sitting at a table by the window, Vincent on one side, the boy across. Tifa was more than happy to oblige, providing more food than the child wanted. She smiled at him and told him not to worry, it wasn't poisonous. He focused on eating his fill, unused to having the opportunity. Vincent sipped coffee. No one else inhabited the bar.

When it appeared the boy slowed his eating, Vincent dared continue his inquiry. "How old are you?"

The kid gulped milk, then wiped his mouth. "Eleven. How old are you?" The kid was smart for his age. Most kids wouldn't think of that, or even care. He could just be curious, but Vincent didn't think so. He believed the boy was feeling him out, deciding if he was a worthy companion.

He said, "Sixty-one."

"How?"

Vincent shrugged. "I'm not sure. Mako, most likely. I know a girl who requires daily exposure. It keeps her looking ten. She's twenty."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"I don't believe you."

"That's fine."

The boy continued eating regardless. His disbelief apparently didn't inhibit his appetite. Vincent glanced toward the bar. Tifa had the phone to her ear, listening. She looked concerned. He redirected his attention to the boy. "What's your name?"

Once again, the kid didn't hesitate. He swallowed and followed up with the same pattern. "Grimoire. What's yours?"

Grimoire..? But that... As far as he knew, it wasn't a common name. It was at that moment he noticed a strong resemblance in this boy's appearance and his own reflection. "Vincent Valentine," he replied, and because he saw no harm in it, "Grimoire was my father's name."

"You're such a liar," little Grim said. He finished the milk.

"It's the truth."

"You're a sick, sick liar. And a pedophile." Nonetheless, he didn't make any attempt to run away. Vincent didn't argue. Tifa hung up the phone and walked over to them. She looked more worried than before.

"Vincent, Cloud told me what happened. I'm so sorry. I hope she gets better."

"Did he say anything about the operation?" The boy perked his head at the word.

She shook her head. "He says they're baffled and won't tell him or Cid anything because you're listed as her guardian, not them."

"I better get back then." He stood and handed Tifa payment despite her protests. Grimoire stuffed a last piece of toast in his mouth before standing up, too.

"Where are you going?" he asked, sounding almost afraid that he might get left behind. This was a child of little trust.

"The hospital."

"Why?"

"The girl I mentioned earlier is ill."

"Oh." The boy paused, seeming to debate if he cared. Or if he wanted to go with Vincent. "Can I... uh..."

"Sure."

He seemed relieved. Tifa smiled and bent to ruffle the boy's hair. "You can come in and visit whenever you like." Grimoire grimaced, disliking the way she touched him and how her breasts shoved themselves in his face. As soon as Vincent opened the door to leave, he followed.

9

President Derek Goodman of the Umbra Company peered over his desk with the face of a man who was very disappointed. His "desk" consisted of a cardboard box with books on top of it supporting a laptop and containing the few precious files that survived. He sat on a crate in the middle of an apartment that had no other furniture. Rosso the Crimson sat cross-legged on the backs of two bald minions. For the most part, she was expressionless. "While you were so _busy_ killing and infecting people I care nothing about," he wheezed, "my company was destroyed! And _robbed_! Thanks to your lack of common sense, I'm now business-less _and_ poor! What have you to say yourself?"

Rosso eyed him with arrogant smugness only villains of her caliber could manage while frowning. "You say this is _my_ fault like I have been working for you since I was born," she drawled. "You are wrong. I did what you asked me to do. That did not include the defense of your pathetic 'establishment.' Besides, I believe it is you who put the were-dragon there to begin with."

When they first met, her thick accent enticed him. He bent to her will and she agreed to do what he wanted. He didn't care for her motive. She seemed useful at the time, and desperate to have some reason to continue her sick way of life. In a way, he suspected she intended to overthrow him and take Umbra herself. He prepared himself for that, though still inclined to melt in her presence. Now, however, he fell immune to her ways. He was angry. Oh so very angry. "And who was it that I put in charge to _guard_ said were-dragon?!"

They fell silent for a moment, before realization dawned on them at the same time.

"MACK PARKERTON!"

Both villainous people held their heads in their hands, Goodman's fingers short and chunky, Rosso's slender and long. Goodman cursed himself. "I knew I shouldn't have let that goof-off guard the area. He probably planned the escape himself! AND ROBBED ME OF MY FORTUNE!"

The Crimson Lady grinned, teeth venomous. "What do you propose we do to him?"

Goodman took the situation more seriously. "The same thing you did to the others. Quickly, Rosso. Head to Midgar and collect more of those wonderfully deadly things! HE WILL DIE TONIGHT!"

10

The Underworld of Midgar was more hazardous than the ruins above. Here, Deepground had made their home. But now that the only soldiers who remained were Rosso and Shelke, that home had been destroyed and infested with creatures mutated from the severe radiation. Giant glowing green rats crawled over the piles of debris as Rosso traveled farther down into the place of her creation. She didn't know how the strange disease-causing substance came to be here—perhaps it had been here all along, part of the Deepground project that had never been released or perfected—but it was useful. And made it all the more fun to watch as the victims squirmed and bled and boiled their way to their doom.

She had been careful to put on a full body suit so as not to risk contracting the disease herself, although she didn't believe it was easily contracted through touch alone. From what she understood, it had to be injected directly into the veins. The substance—living or virus, how would she tell?—seemed to thrive on the nutrients of the bloodstream. But she wasn't a scientist and knew little about the area. She cared not at all. Her trek, however, slowed at once as she saw light at the end of the corridor. Coming from the same room where the specimens she wanted were found. Every trip beforehand, that room had been as dark as the night she traveled by. Who could possibly...?

As she crept closer to the door, she heard... gurgling. Was there a flood? A broken pipe? No... It sounded more like it was made by a throat. Because it wasn't just random, fluid gurgling. It came in patterns. Almost like... communication. And it came from around the room. Several _pitches_ of gurgling. And... growling. And sighing. And...

Screaming!

Rosso covered her ears; the sound was so high, she thought her brain would burst in her skull. This sounded like _nothing_ a victim had done, like nothing a Deepground soldier undergoing "treatment" ever uttered. It went on for several minutes. By the time it stopped, her heart thudded so hard in her chest it threatened to break free. Was this... fear? She'd only felt it once before, when that horrible Vincent Valentine overpowered her. But he hadn't been quick enough to kill her, now had he? Who's to say whatever was behind the door would be quick enough?

She turned the handle, opening the door wide enough to see through. The light, coming from electric torches set on the walls, was dimmer than it appeared from the hallway. Inside sat a circle of beings, no more than twelve, each with unique, hideous mutations of their own. She assumed, knowing nothing else about them, that this was due to the mako radiation. In the midst of the floor laid what appeared to have once been a mutated serpent, with a snout like a dog's and the long body and tail of a dragon. Its legs, covered in dark metallic green and blue feathers, seemed to have melted. Its tongue, the color of blood fresh from a wound, rolled from its mouth like the welcoming carpet of a king. Had this been the creature that screamed? Whether or not it had been, it laid lifeless now. Try as she might, Rosso was unable to determine the cause of death from this distance. It must have been something internal, perhaps the very thing for which she came.

In the front of the room, under the most brightly lit torch, sat a wolf-like creature with two heads and four arms on its torso, three more on which it hunched, its fur mostly gray, with stains of green and blue, much like the serpent creature's feathers. One head watched the creatures surrounding it. The other stared at the dead member in the middle. "Such a fool," that head rumbled deep within its conjoined throat, "to deserve such a fate. Whoever speaks of our Council that way will meet the same end, and _not_ with the same hesitation." Both heads rose to regard the crowd. In one of its paws, formed to make humanoid hands, it held a staff with a bright blue orb glowing atop it. The orb was held in place by the toothy beak of a giant bird's skull. This must be their leader. The others watched it cautiously, in complete silence, as it moved to the center of the room, a single tail crooked and dragging across the floor.

Fascinated by this monster, Rosso leaned a tad too much on the door. It creaked, opening more widely than she intended. This, of course, caught the attention of all these horrors. They rounded on her immediately.

The next she knew, she was back on the surface.


End file.
